


Can't Win Without A Raid Party

by theriverbankofthelethe



Series: Playing Hero [1]
Category: Sword Art Online (Anime & Manga), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: BNHA characters in SAO, Izuku is Kirito, M/M, Shouto is Asuna, Tensei is Klein, an entire two years in Aincrad, based on an AU by SilverKnight369, featuring: Teamwork and Emotional Support!, guest starring: the Midoriya Guilt Complex!, no time skips here baby!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25553224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theriverbankofthelethe/pseuds/theriverbankofthelethe
Summary: Izuku Midoriya is an ordinary boy with a passion for heroes, this is true. That doesn't mean he can't have other interests (though all pale in comparison to his obsession with capes and cowls). Video games aren't just fun, they offer an escape.Sword Art Online is the launch game for the brand new gaming system, the NerveGear, the first example of accessible FullDive technology on the market. No heroes or even magic. Just swords and skill. Izuku can't help but fall in love. Things quickly take a dark turn though, when upon the game's full release, 10 000 players are trapped inside the game with their only hope of escape being the completion of the 100 floors of vicious monsters, cunning traps and terrifying bosses.The world they came from is used to relying on heroes to save the day. What happens when the 10 000 trapped souls must rely on themselves and each other instead?(BNHA characters taking the place of SAO characters AU)
Relationships: Iida Tensei | Ingenium & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto
Series: Playing Hero [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851700
Comments: 96
Kudos: 163





	1. Prologue

Izuku Midoriya liked video games. Loved them really. They allowed him to be what he couldn’t be in real life—a hero.

(They allowed him to pretend that he wasn’t _useless_ ).

He couldn’t remember the exact day he first picked up a controller, but he remembered the game itself. An All Might themed side-scrolling beat’em up, played on a old console bought at a garage sale. He had still been in elementary at the time, eight or nine years old, and what had started out as a mere distraction quickly became an escape.

He probably couldn’t be called a hardcore gamer, not when heroes remained his main passion and consumer of his time, but video games became one of the few things that helped make life bearable. They were fun and engaging and gave his racing mind something to focus on other than his own anxiety. The application of strategy and analysis were often the keys to victory and Izuku was nothing if not fond of analysis, another hobby that focused his mind and calmed his nerves. Most important of all, video games did not require wandering his neighbourhood where Kacchan and co could stumble upon him.

(Izuku had just started learning to avoid Kacchan rather than seek him out. While he still considered the blond boy his friend, there were only so many explosions he could take before he began to flinch away).

New game titles soon filled his shelves alongside books on heroes and action figures. He explored genres and found the ones he was comfortable with, still hero-themed of course. His games started out as single-player.

But, eventually something more crept in. Much like pro-heroes, video games had thriving online communities and, well, Izuku couldn’t resist. Not when they were all so _passionate_ and _interesting,_ just like hero forums with legions of fans bouncing ideas and sharing excitement back and forth. Games were dissected and reconstructed, the best speed runs measured by pixels and millisecond, and complex strategies to take down difficult opponents coordinated between dozens of people. He began participating, slowly at first, but soon he was invested and talking and listening to online peers (never too deep though, never enough to get attached).

They recommended more games. Older ones, classics without a traditional hero in sight (but classics for a reason). Multiplayer games that Izuku flitted to and from without really getting invested in but enjoyed nonetheless. Complex rpgs more numbers than not, explained by bickering players who disagreed on the meta not because they didn’t understand it, but because they all knew it too well. Amazing stories directly told in powerful cutscenes or only inferred through environments and a few lines of dialogue that every player interpreted differently.

Soon video games became one of the few things in his life that _weren’t_ (always) hero-themed.

(Of course heroes would remain his first and greatest passion, but there was enough empty space in his life for both).

His mom didn’t like it, though not because of the usual parental paranoia of brain rot and violence (which she was concerned about of course, but she knew her little boy was far too smart and far too kind for such worries to truly dig their fearful roots in). It was for the same reasons she disliked it when he was holed up in his room scrolling hero forums and scribbling in his notebooks. She wished she could find his happiness outside himself and a screen. She wished the isolation of being Quirkless did not make him turn inwards.

Sometimes Izuku wished she would just _do_ something about it other than worry, and then hated himself for thinking so.

By that point, he rarely told her about the things that upset him anyways.

Then—then news of Sword Art Online came out. True, fully realized VR, with not just sight and sound but touch and taste and smell, controlled by your mind just like in the movies. Beforehand, the NerveGear and other FullDive technology had been rather niche, expensive, and only capable of small puzzle games and walking simulators. A curiosity. This, however, promised something _amazing_. But it was an MMO and Izuku didn’t know… while he was familiar with MMOs, he never stayed long. Real progress almost always required teamwork and Izuku was not good at putting himself out there, even online. He liked sticking to typed chat, to talking briefly about whatever had caught his interest then leaving and never adding people to his contacts, never sharing anything about himself. He analyzed recordings of raids and the like—of course he did, the strategies were fascinating and the coordination mesmerizing—but never participated because raids required relationships and commitment. Sword Art Online wasn’t just something he could sign up for for a month and then abandon like the other MMOs he had checked out. Not when it would require purchasing NerveGear.

But _VR_. Created by the mysterious genius Akihiko Kayaba, who also wrote some captivating papers on the neurological aspects of Quirks and dammit, Izuku couldn’t resist. So he did his research, found himself fascinated with everything Sword Art Online (because the game, because the tech, because this was a chance he could truly pretend to be more than Quirkless Deku without a screen between him and the fantasy) and he wanted _in_.

Except NerveGear was expensive and the Midoriyas were not a wealthy family. They were hardly poor, but still. Izuku spent most of his money on the hero merch and games his mother didn’t buy for him rather than saving for such a big purchase. Buying a brand new state-of-the-art gaming system and a new high-demand game all at once was so outside his budget it wasn’t even funny, and it was far too expensive to ask his mom to buy it for him.

It was upsetting. Frustrating. The NerveGear alone was _revolutionary_ , and from what he heard the game itself was a labour of love. A hundred floors of content, each one unique, and while it seemed far too good to be true there was some footage (in-game footage, not the CGI animated bullshit and it looked _real_ ) and man, there wasn’t much Izuku cared about other than heroes but he cared about this.

That was fine. He could save up and who knew, maybe by the time he could buy Nerve Gear there’d be new, even better games on the market. He was used to being disappointed.

Except that wasn’t what happened. He came home after a particularly bad day at school with clothes smelling faintly of smoke and ears still ringing, a state he accepted with a numb sort of resignation. Then he saw his mother sitting at the dinner table with a wrapped box, smiling anxiously like she often did.

“Come sit down Izuku,” she said and he sat, feeling a little nervous.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t always know what’s going on in your life. And I know you hide things from me.”

Which was true. She didn’t know a lot of things about Izuku’s life because Izuku kept them from her. Nothing would change if he told her, a fact he had discovered very young, and it kept her from getting upset on his behalf. If he told her then she would cry and apologize and Izuku would feel so, _so_ guilty because he had hurt his mother and made her even more stressed, no doubt blaming herself for giving birth to a useless Quirkless son (and he was sorry for being born Quirkless too, for being such a burden when she could have had a kid with a cool Quirk who had a dream she could believe in). Izuku had thought he had been sneaky about it, that she hadn’t realized how little he told her about what happened outside their little apartment. But apparently she knew he was at least keeping some things from her.

Yet habits remained, and so he remained silent rather than opening up about the challenges he faced.

“And I know I’m not always the best mom.”

“Mom–” Izuku began to protest but was cut off by her holding up her hand.

“Let me finish sweetheart,” she said shakily. “And I don’t always get your interests, but if they make you happy then– then I want to support you.”

She pushed the box across the table. “Now go on, open it.”

Izuku peeled off the shiny paper and– “NerveGear! Why would you…” NerveGear was expensive, not a purchase to be made on a whim.

“I know you really want to play that Sword game when it comes out. Who knows, maybe I’ll try it out sometime and we can play together, though you’ll have to teach me how.” She smiled, a tiny fragile thing that was equal parts hesitance as it was hope. There were tears in her eyes.

Oh. He was crying too.

He stood up so fast he made the table shake and launched himself into her arms. They both sobbed, a small moment of connection after years of silence and guilt between them. One of them had finally reached out.

And while Izuku was still thrilled to be chosen for the beta test, it was really this moment that made him the happiest of all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is based on an AU dump by SilentKnight369. I read the idea and just… inspiration. The character choices were perfect. I couldn’t… not write this.


	2. Link Start!

Last Chapter: Inko tries to be a supportive mom, accidentally condemning her son to a death game (not that she knows that yet), and the Midoriyas bond while crying, as is tradition. Izuku likes video games even if heroes are his first passion and becomes a beta-tester.

~o0o~

It was launch day.

Izuku watched the release livestream in his room, grinning as little as it momentarily showed pre-recorded footage of Ingenium cheerfully hold up a copy of SAO surrounded by what Izuku recognized as a few of his sidekicks, each with their own copies. Apparently the popular hero had sat in line just like everyone else, camping out in order to get one of the limited copies. He had been a good sport about signing stuff while waiting.

So cool.

Someone knocked on his door.

“Izuku?” his mother called out gently. “I’ll be out for the evening. Can you make yourself dinner sweetheart?”

Izuku leaned back in his chair. “Sure mom!”

“I’ll be at Mitsuki’s if you need anything. I love you.”

“I love you too!”

He heard her leaving and smiled. He glanced at the clock. Almost time.

Nothing could ruin today. Not Kacchan, not villains, not the discomfort from burn on his arm rubbing against his long-sleeved shirt. Not today. His hands were shaking as he plugged in his Nerve Gear.

He lied down in his bed and took a deep breath. He put on his NerveGear. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes were his All Might posters staring it him from where they were stuck on the ceiling, tinted black by the visor.

“Link start!”

~o0o~

Vibrant colours assaulted his vision as he was plunged into VR, accompanied by the thoroughly disorienting sensation of lacking a body. While sight and sound remained as the NerveGear performed basic system checks and connected to his nervous system—apparently added because the complete sensory deprivation, however brief, was incredibly distressing to the original FullDive testers—he otherwise could not feel, taste, or smell anything. This lasted a few seconds at most before he was suddenly thrust back into his avatar.

He blinked once, twice, three times as he swayed, readjusting to a form that didn’t match his flesh and blood body. Ideally, you were supposed to make your avatar as close to you physically as possible to reduce the dysphoria. Most didn’t. And with mutant Quirks and limited avatar models, some couldn’t.

He stared down at brown boots and gloved hands, older and so much stronger than the Quirkless fourteen year old boy’s who had never held a weapon, even at lvl 1. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

He curled his fingers into a fist, revelling in the sensation of fingers digging into his palm even through the thin fingerless gloves. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He smelled the fresh air, felt the sun warm on his face. He could even feel the rough cloth of his shirt on his skin. It felt _real_ and it never failed to impress him.

He was back and he couldn’t help the wide smile on his face.

His cheeks felt weird, wet, but in the way SAO often tried and failed to properly simulate. Tears.

“Oh no,” he whispered, quickly wiping his eyes before any of the many players, all appearing in glittering blue light, could see.

There was cheering too, so much cheering as more and more players logged on. Hoots and hollers and shrieks of delight, the noise clearer than it ever was in real life. Many were jumping and shouting and screaming, bouncing with excitement even as they stumbled around in bodies they were unfamiliar with. Izuku– no, _Midoku,_ grinned, sharing their joy.

“I’m back,” he said quietly and with sudden realization, then giggled. “I’m back!” he shouted giddily.

“You are!” someone agreed from behind with a chuckle, thumping him on the back and making him stumble and laugh. Two girls squealed, hugging and spinning nearby. Fireworks went off, celebrating the launch. “This is AMAZING!” someone screamed in the distant background.

This wasn’t just amazing, it was revolutionary. A new step not just in video games but the human experience. This was what people had been dreaming about ever since the concept of VR had been suggested and now, centuries later, it was here.

Midoku had been one of a few to experience this all before today, and he was still left vibrating with excitement as he turned and ran out of the plaza and onto the street. “I’M BACK!” he yelled, receiving some friendly shouts of encouragement in return that for once didn’t make his heart stutter with nerves, weaving between players already swarming the cobble roads and crowding around the stands where NPCs sold fruits and weapons and jewelry that sparkled in the sun. Most players were meandering along, enjoying the sights and chatting excitedly with a sort of barely restrained mania reminiscent of children let free in an amusement part, still high off the first log-on. But Midoku had a destination in mind as he turned down a much less crowded alley.

He didn’t get there though. Instead, something even better happened.

“Excuse me! Could speak with you!?” someone shouted from behind him.

He slowed down and stopped, turning to see another player with long white hair and a slim handsome face, unnaturally perfect and symmetrical as was typical of SAO avatars. It took the other player only a second to catch up but once he did he was left breathing heavily, hands on his knees as he panted. Midoku supposed he didn’t put many starter points into Stamina. Beginners mistake.

“Whoah,” he wheezed, “I haven’t been winded like it in a while.”

Midoku smiled sympathetically, a little nervous. Everyone had been pretty friendly during the beta despite his mumbling and occasional stammering, very strange behaviour based off of Midoku’s past experiences, but he guessed it had something to do with Argo’s insistence that he stay. They never really had to deal with him much anyways, not when he usually wandered off on his own and only joined groups when Argo dragged him along for reasons known only to her. Now, with the game open to the public, he wondered if other players would be so lenient.

(While no one knew he was Quirkless here, no one had a _reason_ to know, he was well aware that was only one of his many deficiencies).

“U-um, yeah. Everyone starts with the same baseline Stats and while, um, while we get some starter points to boost them, real life stuff doesn’t transfer so we all start off pretty weak.”

“Seems so,” the other player agreed, standing upright with a small groan of exertion. “So, you were part of the beta-test?”

Midoku stiffened, flustered. “U-Uh, yeah I was. How did you know?” He briefly focused on the small cursor floating above the other player’s head and was rewarded with a nametag. _Tesla_.

“You seemed like you knew where you were going and you clearly understand what you’re talking about,” Tesla explained, giving Midoku a friendly smile.

Tesla had a quiet confidence to him, calm and assured and with fantastic posture. There was no bravado, just a genuine sort of presence. His tone was both firm and warm, steady but not soft. While he didn’t grin widely and toothily like All Might, his smile felt very safe and honest. Midoku was both envious and a little intimidated. Even as his avatar, which gave him a certain amount of boldness, Midoku could never quite escape the uncertain quaver in his voice when it deigned to appear, or the urge to curl in on himself.

“Uh-um, thank you,” Midoku stammered, hunching over a little but smiling despite himself.

“You’re very welcome,” Tesla said kindly, holding up both hands as if trying to put him at ease. “I just wanted to ask for a few tips since this is my first day, but if you feel uncomfortable or just want to be left alone it’s absolutely fine and I’ll go pester someone else.”

“No!” Midoku exclaimed, then reddened at the sudden outburst. “I mean– No, um, don’t go. I’d love to give you some tips. I just… If I get too weird or something and you need to tell me to stop, please be nice.” He smiled weakly.

He regretted every word out of his mouth. Great job Midoku, wonderful first impression.

“I see.” Tesla nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as if piecing together a puzzle. He was also frowning and for a moment Midoku was worried he had done something wrong before the other player smiled again, gentler this time. “I doubt I will need to, but I promise that if I want you to stop doing something, I’ll be kind about it.”

“Thank you.”

“You can call me Tesla,” Tesla introduced, holding out a hand.

Midoku eyes widened, realizing Tesla probably wasn’t used to looking for health bars and name tags in VR. Maybe didn’t even know how to yet. “My name’s Midoku! A pleasure to meet you!” And then Midoku grabbed Tesla’s hand in far too eager a handshake, drawing a small laugh out of the other player.

“The pleasure is mine, Midoku-kun!”

~o0o~

Tesla was _great_. He was friendly and patient and a quick learner. He didn’t mind when Midoku stumbled over words or worse, mumbled like a maniac (Kacchan once said he sounded like some psychopath planning to poison them all in their sleep, while most others just called it annoying or creepy). Instead he seemed… amused? But not in a mean way. In the way Argo would be amused, only Argo usually nagged him to slow down so she could write down what he said while Tesla seemed content to just listen.

(He hoped he’d run into Argo again, but he was unsure if he should seek her out. She might not want to hang out with all these new, better players now online and he did not want to suffer the potential rejection, nor did he want to impose).

Tesla was also _talented_ , not necessarily a natural with a sword but still quite capable of dancing around small mobs without the hesitation most new players to VR combat experienced. He did tend to overestimate his stamina and his speed a lot, something which Midoku expected since his earlier comments implied he was far more active in real life than his current avatar would allow, but he’d adjust. Perhaps he even had an athletics-based Quirk which wouldn’t translate into the game at all. That would be quite jarring, Midoku thought, though nothing compared to those with radically different body structures since SAO only had four-limbed humanoid avatars and he wondered how those with drastic mutations dealt with–

Midoku didn’t even notice he was muttering again until Tesla deigned to speak up about it.

“Midoku-kun, please speak up so–OW!” Tesla was cut off as the hog he was fighting—small, low-level, fast but not faster than a newbie could handle—slammed into his stomach and sent him flying. He hit the dirt with a groan and audible thump, his health lowered into the yellow.

“OHMYGODTESLAAREYOUOKAYI’MSORRY!!!” Midoku screamed, running over to help the other player up.

“I’m fine Midoku-kun, it’s my fault for getting distracted,” Tesla said, recovering quickly. He did not hesitate to accept the offered hand but waved off Midoku’s frantic apologies. He seemed a little embarrassed. “It’s rather strange though, I keep forgetting that we can’t feel actual pain. Everything else is so real and yet I’m not even sore."

Midoku knew Tesla wouldn’t stick around once their impromptu tutorial was over (why would he?) but he was content enjoying the other’s player’s company for as long as it lasted.

“Yeah, I know. I keep expecting getting hit to hurt and while it’s not… _nice_ , it’s not really terrible either.” Midoku rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, recalling the odd tingling sensation of virtual injury. He was used to at least mild pain at this point, Kacchan and the others made sure of it, and with how the NerveGear cut off all sensory information from his actual body he couldn’t even feel the usual ever-present ache of bruises and burns. It was… odd.

“Any advice for what I did wrong that time?” Tesla asked, holding up his sword to examine it while keeping one eye on the offending hog now peacefully grazing a few steps away.

“Well, it wasn’t terrible or anything like that. You dodged really well until you got distracted,” Midoku began hesitantly, sinking into the familiar feeling of analysis while stifling his anxiety. So far Tesla had reacted well to his suggestions, but some part of him remained wary. He didn’t want Tesla to storm off early because he said something wrong. “The problem is you never really attacked much and you didn’t use any Sword Skills either. Enemies generally don’t get tired here so you can’t really outlast them and the Sword Arts are super important for causing major damage. Um, your first attack also sets up the conflict and you didn’t take advantage of that.”

Tesla nodded thoughtfully, turning his sword over in his hand. “Do you mind demonstrating?”

Midoku startled, surprised Tesla wanted him to. Even when people acknowledged he had good advice (which was a very rare occurrence), they never really acted like he could apply it better than they could. “Sure!” he yelped. “I don’t mind! I’m not the best but please watch closely!”

And there is was again. That quiet amusement, a smile directed at him that had no malice, just something Midoku almost dared to mistake for fondness. It was strange.

Midoku picked up a pebble, rubbing it nervously between his fingers. “So if you set up your initial motion right–” He prepared to throw it. “–you can activate a Sword Skill.” And he made sure Tesla could see the exact moment the glow rose up and the noise cue hit it’s zenith before Midoku launched the pebble at the hog, smacking it’s flank hard enough to leave a red mark that signified damage. His entire body stiffened for a short moment, the post-motion delay lasting less than a second for such a low level skill (Throw).

“When you do that, the system pretty much guarantees you’ll hit your target,” Midoku continued, eyes flickering between the Frenzied Boar and Tesla with an uncertain expression in his face. “I’m sorry, I’m not good at explaining.”

“You’re doing great,” Tesla reassured, watching curiously as Midoku casually stepped out of the way of the aggro’d mob's charge, and then, when it turned back around, caught it’s tusks on his sword. “So these Sword Skills, how do I use them? What should I feel for?”

“I mean, the feeling itself is hard to describe but you get used to it,” Midoku explained, easily holding the hog in place. “To get it started though, right after you begin your initial motion, wait for a bit. Once you feel the skill activating, then follow through, letting the system guide you.”

“I see! Allow me to make another attempt,” Tesla requested with a firm determination, widening his stance and readying his sword.

Only when Midoku saw the subtle glow of a Sword Skill—a brilliant white where Midoku had mint green—did he redirect the Frenzied Boar at Tesla with a firm kick. The mob charged. Tesla brought down his sword and threw himself forward with a yell.

The hog shattered into bright blue fractals, a very pretty animation with a satisfying sound. A small screen appeared in front of both of them, not large enough to be a distraction in the middle of combat, alerting them both to the small amount of exp and Cor they each received.

“That was amazing Tesla!” Midoku cheered.

Of course Frenzied Boars were one of the weakest mobs in the game, analogous to slimes and the like, so it was hardly that much of an achievement, but Midoku was proud.

Tesla turned to face him and grinned. “Thank you Midoku-kun! But it was your excellent advice that guided us to victory!”

“Uh, it was nothing really. I just had time to learn the game,” Midoku quickly denied, blushing once again at the praise.

Then blinked.

“Don’t leave me hanging, Midoku-kun,” Tesla said, pale eyes sparkling as he held up one hand (and how amazing it was, that this system was so advance it could reflect the _sparkle_ in someone’s eye).

Midoku smiled hesitantly, then so widely it hurt before gently slapping Tesla’s palm with his own.

~o0o~

“I think I am beginning to understand why everyone was so excited about proper VR now. It’s quite a rush,” Tesla noted, jabbing his sword at an invisible enemy.

“It is!” Midoku nodded, bouncing a little in place. “And it’s not just the combat that’s great! You can taste food and touch things and the AI for the NPCs is really impressive. And there is so much to explore! I only got to see a tiny amount of all there is to see and it’d be worth the price of the game and NerveGear just for that! Not to mention all the Skills!”

And really, Midoku would admit SAO had flaws in game design, It was inevitable that it did, being a pioneer of the genre. But it was _VR_ , a fully realized and interactive fantasy world ripe for exploring; an isekai story come to life. There was no way anyone would not want to experience SAO, even without magic or even Quirks of any kind.

(Apparently the other devs had tried to get magic in the game but Akihiko Kayaba had gone so far to threaten to pull out of the project, and he was a man impossible to replace).

“How many Skills are there?” Tesla asked, thrusting his sword and once again receiving the white glow of a Sword Skill in return.

“Rumour has it SAO has infinite number of Skills, but I don’t think that’s possible unless they’re procedurally generated and that’d just be boring,” Midoku explained, watching intently as Tesla once again tried to activate a Sword Skill, only to fail when he timed it wrong. “Still, there are a lot. They can be generally sorted into a few categories, like Support and Combat. Blacksmithing would be Crafting while Parry would be Combat. Sword Skill is actually the general term used for all system-guided combat moves, even for weapons like spears or hand-to-hand combat, while the actual skill progression of weapons falls under Weapon Skills. You can also combine Skills for Composite Effects, though only a few were discovered in the beta.”

Tesla stopped his sword practice, turning his full attention to Midoku. “The character creator didn’t explain much about them. How do you get new ones in this game?”

The starting tutorial clearly had not improved since the beta.

“So, um, right now we only have two Skill slots,” Midoku said, opening his menu and pointing. Tesla walked over to see and then opened his own menu to compare. “We can gain more slots as we level up. One of the two Skill slots we have now is automatically filled with whatever starting weapon we chose in the character creator, so I have One-Handed Straight Sword and you probably have One-Handed Curved Sword.” Tesla nodded in confirmation. “Some Skills are super easy to get—a lot of Weapon Skills only require owning the weapon and trying to equip it. Others are harder and require completing certain quests, reaching a certain level in a related Skill, talking to NPCs or otherwise fulfilling some other set of requirements. It’s a good idea to be smart when you choose Skills because if you replace one, you lose all your progress in that Skill.”

“So they level up with exp?”

Someone _really_ needed to fix the tutorial.

“The more you use a Skill the more it levels up, kinda like some of those old fantasy open-world Bethesda RPGs.” Midoku could recall playing a few of those old games. Janky, buggy and outdated messes, but also really fun. "Since this is VR a lot of Skills actually require technical skill from the player to be used effectively at higher levels, like levelling up a Weapon Skill gives you access to more Sword Skills but doesn’t actually improve your sword fighting, or better Crafting Skills let you craft better items with better materials but also requires more complicated and difficult steps.”

“That makes sense. It would help keep progressing Skills from at least getting boring,” Telsa mused.

“Yeah, and even the players in the beta who messed around with Crafting Skills, which would normally be super boring to level up by using them over and over, were happy with it. Apparently it’s fun and interactive,” Midoku said. “There’s even NPCs who tutor players in Skills. They don’t raise the Skill level or anything, but they do show people how to craft or fight.”

Midoku could fondly recall an NPC in the Town of Beginnings who held large group beginner classes for swordsmanship that often ended in duels between players. He could also remember another, more intense sword-instructor who taught one-on-one lessons in half-hour segments on Floor Four. Or the elderly grandmother NPC who taught Sewing in her tiny cottage on the Second Floor, who he saw surrounded by a group of twenty players, all crowding around her with expressions of intense concentration as she demonstrated the how to cross-stitch. It had been rather funny and cute, considering the players were all armed warriors yet completely enthralled by the little old lady.

“Hmm. What about Stats then. How do those increase and what do they do? I can guess, but the descriptions are still a bit vague.”

“Well, Stats increase with player level which is different from Skill levels.” Midoku explained. “Player level increases with exp and with every level you get some points to put into your Stats. Vitality is health, Agility is speed, Stamina is endurance, and Strength is… um, strength. Health also increases with level just normally. I heard that in the alpha you could only increase Strength and Agility, but Vitality and Stamina were added for the beta. They affect a lot of different things, like how far you can run or how hard you can hit. So typical RPG stuff only it directly effects the physical abilities of our avatars instead of damage scaling and stuff. Strength doesn’t change the listed damage of a weapon but since your swing is stronger you still end up doing more damage anyway. There are also a bunch of invisible stats we were figuring out during the beta.”

“Which is why I often feel tired. I neglected to put any starting points into Stamina,” Tesla recalled.

“Exactly,” Midoku agreed eagerly, grinning as the conversation turned in a more exciting direction. “The thing is, Stats are super complicated so no one can calculate all the effects yet! We know Stamina allows people to run farther and be more active before taking a break, but we can’t measure it exactly because there is no stamina bar! Instead the system makes us feel tired to tell us we’re running low on stamina, and then simulates exhaustion to make us stop which people react differently to, like some people can push themselves farther! Not to mention we’ve found other Stats can effect the same thing, like both Strength and Agility have an effect on running speed, even if Agility has an overall greater effect. The closest we came to calculating the effects of Stats is Vitality because health points are numbered, but then we discovered that health points seem to increase in a manner inconsistent with just level and Vitality which means there is an unknown factor, possibly the invisible Stats. That’s not even getting into buffs and items! Stats also have an effect on Skills as well, with some Skills requiring certain Stats to use or level past a certain point, as well as Stats improving the use of Skills!”

“Sounds a bit unpredictable,” Tesla noted, a fair observation. Most people who played MMORPGs did not like RNG or anything that they couldn’t turn into neat calculations, at least at the higher levels of play.

“I’m sure it’ll be figured out soon.” Midoku shrugged, well aware just how obsessive gamers could be when it came to breaking games down to their basic parts. He was one of them. Soon enough, SAO would be data-minded down to its ones and zeroes. Maybe. SAO was pretty advanced with unique programming. It might take a few years to figure it out. “It won’t drive many people away anyways. SAO could have the worst game design ever and people would still sign up just to explore a VR world.”

Tesla looked back out over the fields carpeted in soft green grass beneath a brilliant blue sky, waves of motion rolling across the land created by the slightest breeze. “That is true.”

For a few moments, there was nothing but the sound of the wind.

“So did you make any friends during the beta? Maybe you guys could write a tutorial that actually works,” Tesla suggested a little teasingly.

“A-Ah, no” he protested, flailing a little. “No, I hung out with some other players in the beta-test but there weren’t that many of us so they couldn’t be picky. And I didn’t really help out that much at all.” The last part was mumbled.

Tesla paused. Stared at Midoku for a second or two. Then– “It sounds like it was fun,” he said warmly, grabbing Midoku’s shoulder and squeezing. Midoku froze, entire body stiff as a board under Tesla’s hand. “I’m sure they were glad to have you around.”

Midoku slowly relaxed. “Thank you, Tesla. Y-you’re a real nice guy.” He furiously wiped at his eyes, smiling like someone had handed him the sun. Tesla graciously pretended not to see the tears, and merely smiled back.

Midoku was certain, nothing could ruin today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing could ruin today.” Are you sure of that Izuku?
> 
> Also, why Midoku? Well, I couldn’t call him Kirito because quite frankly it feels weird and confusing. They’re too different. But I followed the same naming convention Kirito did. Kazuto Kirigaya. To + Kiri = Kirito. Hence, Izuku Midoriya. Ku + Mido = Midoku. Technically it should be Midoriku, but I think Midoku sounds better to me. Right number of syllables. I also considered Izuya but I wanted to keep the -ku. Try to guess why.
> 
> Same thing with Klein. Klein was named after an American bicycle company so now he’s named after an American automobile/energy company. If you’ve read the AU dump this came from or tags and know the casting already, you already know why.
> 
> In other news, time for How SAO Is Different. There are two additional Stats other than Agility and Strength (Klein has been shown visibly out of breath while Kirito is not even though Kirito had been running longer which hints at some sort of hidden Stamina bar, and it makes sense for a Vitality stat bc then players have to make the decision between better physical ability and more hp in a game of literal death. Safety versus progression in a theme in the light novel) and Stats are treated like… like part of how the body’s capabilities is simulated outside of Skills. Like Stamina allows someone to be physical active (so even if all their Sword Skills are on cooldown, they can still run and jump and swing a weapon, but will still have to rest if low of stamina) and I also imagine there are two types of stamina that the Stamina Stat regulates (short-term stamina for sprinting, fighting, jumping that can be recovered by catching your breath ect versus long-term endurance that controls how long someone can perform less exhausting actions such as walking before long rests). Agility would be speed while Strength would be, well, strength (which means Strength would improve running speed or jumping because he muscles would be more powerful, but Agility would improve it the best because it directly effects speed).
> 
> The invisible stats are more non-physical shit that effect things around the player, such as Luck, or stats that would effect behaviour such as Wisdom or Charisma (which obviously wouldn’t apply to players because they retain full control of their mental faculties and don’t have anything like magic that could scale off it) that only really matter for generally NPC behaviour.
> 
> In case you’re wondering how bad the starting tutorial is, it does explain some things but doesn’t explain how many typical RPG mechanics translate into VR. Also does anyone get a sense SAO as a video game was based off of some of Bethesdas open world games? Like lvl increases stats but skills increase with use, that’s straight up Elder Scrolls.


	3. The Game Begins

Last Chapter: Inko leaves her son alone for the rest of the day to visit the Bakugous. Midoku logs in and is overwhelmed with joy. Tesla meets a ball of anxiety and self-worth issues and his Big Brother Instinct™ is immediately activated. Midoku is confused as to why Tesla is being so nice because he’s been told all his life he’s annoying and weird. Argo is mentioned because I love her and she was Midoku’s only friend during the beta test, not that Midoku realizes this. And SAO continues to be impressive because were it not for the death game, it’d be a VR classic.

~o0o~

It was evening when the end began.

SAO followed a day/night cycle identical to the outside world. After several hours of roaming the fields and slaying low-level mobs (and Midoku was simply astounded Tesla had stuck with him, had showed no signs of wanting to head off on his own when even Argo would have gotten bored of him) the brilliant blue sky had become tinged with warmer colours. Noticing the passing time, Midoku insisted that Tesla just _had_ to watch the sunset with him. He knew a spot with a great view and it was quite a spectacular sight to behold. While Midoku wouldn’t have pushed it if Tesla refused, the other player had seemed quite happy at the offer.

They sat at the edge of one the many elevated islands that scattered the first floor. They could see the grasslands stretched out below them, and the other floating islands with trees and lakes and the occasional waterfall that spilled over the side, often with a rainbow. Off in the distance, there was the dark silhouette of the Town of Beginning. Even further away, there was the hazy sight of an enormous pillar—the labyrinth that led to the second floor, Midoku said—that was so large that it would be just about impossible to construct in the real world. Rich colour stretched across the sky, blazing yellows melting into rich oranges that finally faded into black. The light cast by the setting sun was soft and warm, shadows stretching and water sparkling like quicksilver as the edges of the islands were gilded with gold.

“It is truly astounding,” Tesla observed softly, “to see how far technology has come.”

Midoku hummed contently, smiling as he sprawled out on the cool grass. He may have sacrificed his head start while all the newbies were orienting themselves, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when there was this wonderful warmth in his chest, calm and contented. “I know. This looks real and feels real and Aincrad is _huge_. Just the few floors we managed to see in the beta test would have been worth the money and more, and there are a _hundred_.”

He could not smother the sheer wonder in his voice, the longing to see it all.

Tesla chuckled. “I can’t wait,” Tesla agreed. “Perhaps, once more copies are released, I should get my brother to join us. I’d think he’d enjoy this.”

“You have a brother?” Midoku sat up.

“Yes.” Tesla’s eyes grew brighter and spoke a noticeable note of pride. “A younger one.”

“It sucks that he didn’t get a copy then.” Midoku frowned sympathetically. He had been lucky, very lucky. Lucky that his mom decided to support his interests, lucky to be one of out of thousands to be a part of the beta test, and lucky that participating in the beta test guaranteed a pre-order.

Tesla laughed, shaking his head. “Oh no, he doesn’t care much for video games. He thinks they’re frivolous wastes of time, but I think being a little frivolous would be good for him. He puts too much pressure on himself.”

The conversation was entering personal, non-game territory, and Midoku was a bit nervous to proceed. He liked Tesla, a lot, and he didn’t want to mess up by saying something wrong.

“Oh. Why does he put so much pressure on himself?” Midoku asked a little hesitantly.

Tesla shrugged. “He has high standards for himself. He also wants to become a pro-hero.”

“Really?!” Midoku exclaimed, immediately abandoned the beautiful vista to stare at Tesla with a single-minded focus, nervousness completely lost in a wave of hero-driven excitement. Tesla’s little brother wanting to be a hero was hardly surprising, most kids did, but the fact he seemed to making an active _effort_ … well, that was not nearly as common.

“Yep. He wants to be a great hero and to make our family proud.”

And then Tesla glanced over and saw Midoku’s expression, bright-eyed and intense with an eager grin, like the mention of heroes had made him come alive. Like there was a fire there that had never been present before.

“With a face like that, I assume you want to be a pro-hero too,” Tesla guessed with a note of amusement, like he expected nothing else.

“Well, uh, yes! Yes! I really do!” Midoku stammered, caught between embarrassment and surprise. He covered his mouth with his hands, pulling his knees up to his chest as he looked anywhere but Tesla, the blazing excitement in his eyes suddenly smothered into smouldering coals. “I mean… being a hero has been my dream since I was a little kid,” he admitted, a little hesitantly. “It’s stupid though. Everyone wants to be a hero, so what makes me so special? But I want to save people and make them feel safe.”

Why did he even say that? That sort of talk was dangerous, was out of line. Sure, Midoku believed in himself, forced himself to because to do otherwise was unthinkable, but he knew no one else did. He braced himself for rejection, for the inevitable ‘be more realistic’ or worse, the ‘stay in your place’ which was always more painful. But Tesla did not say anything like that.

“I think it’s a great dream,” Tesla said without a moment of hesitation, like it wasn’t even in question. “I’m sure that with enough hard work, you can become a exemplary hero.”

Midoku seized up. His face contorted oddly, like he didn’t know which emotion to express. There was a painful lump in his throat.

He knew it was because Tesla didn’t know he was Quirkless, because Tesla didn’t know _Izuku_ , useless stupid Izuku who cried over everything and didn’t know how to stay out of the way, but somehow that didn’t really matter. He couldn’t… when had anyone ever said that to him? When was the last time someone said that he could be a hero?

Not since he was four years old, at least.

“Are you alright, Midoku-kun?” Tesla asked with rising concern.

“I-it’s nothing.” Midoku choked a little as he hid his face in his arms, voice thick. “Sorry. It’s just– just, people don’t usually tell me stuff like that and today’s been pretty emotional. Sorry.”

There was a sudden spark of understanding in Tesla’s eyes and he nodded. “No need to apologize. Perhaps we should both take a break soon. Today has been quite exhausting.” Full of wonder and adrenaline and joy, but exhausting nonetheless.

“In a good way though,” Midoku hurriedly added, rubbing his face on his sleeve. He hated being such a crybaby. “And I’m just being overdramatic anyway. No need to worry.”

“Perhaps a change of subject then?” Tesla suggested. “Actually, I was wondering if I could add you to my friends list. There’s no pressure, but I think I’d enjoy partying up with you in the future, and I think some of my other friends would as well.”

Midoku choked again, frantically gesturing with his usual anxious hysteria as he struggled to regain his voice. “T-Tesla-san, I… but I’m not– you don’t have an obligation to… to party up with someone like me just because I helped you out.”

“Now what happened to just Tesla?” Tesla asked, somehow both chiding and teasing, making Midoku sputter. “You shouldn’t assume people don’t want you around. You sacrificed your first day to help me learn how to play and as a beta-tester, you could have used that time to get far ahead of the rest of us. That is something to be proud of.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Midoku mumbled. He just did what seemed right and he enjoyed himself so it wasn’t really that much of a sacrifice anyways.

“Either way, it’s no trouble,” Tesla insisted, opening his menu. “If you don’t want to friend me I won’t make you but– huh?” Tesla paused, brow furrowing with confusion.

“What?”

“The logout button. The spot where it should be is blank. Is that… normal?”

“What?” Midoku crawled over to look at Tesla’s menu. “It should be right– that’s weird. Maybe it’s a glitch?”

Tesla frowned. “Check your own menu.”

Midoku opened his own menu and blinked, trying to quell his unease when he saw that like Tesla’s, his logout button was blank. “Mine’s gone too.”

It was weird and not good.

“It doesn’t work,” Tesla realized as he pressed the blank space on his menu to no response.

“It’s probably just a glitch,” Midoku said a little nervously as he tapped the space where his own logout button should be several times, as if repetition would magically fix it. It had to be a glitch. Except during the beta, while there were things they had to patch, there had been very few actual bugs. Exploitations and ways to break the game, such as with the merchant carpets, but rarely did the code not work as intended.

“Perhaps, but since our bodies are unresponsive in the real world we will have to wait until the glitch is fixed, the GM logs us out, the server is shut down, or someone removes the Nerve Gear,” Tesla explained worriedly, standing up and walking away from the ledge, his face cast in shadow. “Which is no problem for me since my family and co-workers will notice when I do not show up for work tomorrow, but many players live alone and may not have someone who will notice their absence. There could also be emergencies. Do you have someone to remove the NerveGear for you at home?”

Midoku got up and followed, fidgeting anxiously with the sun to his back. “My mom, but she won’t be home until late tonight.”

“Hmm. Well, the staff will realize the problem quickly. There are always launch-day bugs,” Tesla rationalized, then huffed irritably. “Still, how irresponsible. People could be stuck for hours.”

“We could try contacting the game master?” Midoku suggested, trying to control his breathing.

“I’m already trying. They’re not picking up,” Tesla said, a tight frown of disapproval on his face. “I suppose they're busy, but something doesn’t feel right.”

Midoku agreed, his sense of unease growing. Why would the GMs not be available on launch day? Why would such a major bug—the logout button was missing, the only way to stop playing the game and return to the real world—so far seem unnoticed by the staff? Especially since the success of SAO would make or break the VR genre and such an obvious safety hazard–

“There’s no emergency logout method either,” Midoku recalled, suddenly feeling claustrophobic despite the vast open space that surrounded them. “We really are trapped."

“Very irresponsible,” Tesla repeated firmly. “And dangerous. People will panic.”

Midoku hugged himself. “So we just wait?” he asked nervously. The thought of being stuck… he loved SAO, but being trapped with no exit was upsetting.

Tesla finally caught sight of Midoku’s face, pale and with a nervous grimace. Something seemed to soften.

“Of course not,” Tesla said, crafting a calm smile. “We can go hunt some more mobs and I can invite some of my friends. I bet Aincrad looks pretty cool at night anyway.”

Midoku smiled weakly, unconvinced but trying to play along. “It does. I can even test out my new Search Skill. And it’s not like it’s forever.”

“Exactly. I’m sure there will be an announcement as soon as the staff figure out what’s wrong, and then they’ll fix it,” Tesla reassured. It felt hollow.

Then they heard it, a bell. A ringing bell large enough to be heard clearly across the entire plains, the sound coming from the Town of Beginnings.

“Do you think that’s the announcement?” Midoku asked after a few seconds.

Before Tesla could reply, they both vanished into blue light.

~o0o~

Tesla and Midoku appeared in the main plaza of the Town of Beginnings, alongside what looked like all ten thousand other players. The bell kept ringing for a few moments, then stopped.

“A forced teleport. Only an admin can do that,” Midoku whispered, doing his best to ignore the dull roar of the confused crowd. From the few snippets of coherent conversation he could make out, other players had been experiencing the same loss of their logout button.

“Stick close to me,” Tesla ordered, all business as he scanned the agitated crowd for a sign of what was going on. Midoku appreciated the excuse to edge closer to Tesla.

“What’s going on?”

“Is this about why we can’t log out?”

“Could the GM hurry up already.”

“Look!” one of the other players exclaimed, pointing up.

It began with a single red panel, opaque with a slight glow, blinking in and out of existence like a car’s rear light. Then it suddenly spread, multiplying across the sky at a frightening pace until the entire town was enveloped, casting them all in red light. Between the panels, all labelled with either WARNING or SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT, oozed a red liquid that dripped down and gathered in the air.

It reminded Midoku chillingly of blood.

The liquid swiftly forming what seemed to be a giant in a red robe with gold lining, an empty void where the face should be. Midoku recognized the robes as what the GMs had worn during the beta, only they had been normal sized and had faces.

The crowd whispered and murmured like something alive, unease mixing with excitement at the impressive display.

“Attention players,” the cloaked figure began, his voice a deep baritone as he held out his hands in welcome. “Welcome to my world."

Midoku had a bad feeling, and judging from his taut expression, it seemed Tesla shared it.

“My name is Akihiko Kayaba.As of this moment, I am the only person able to control this world.”

Which was a weird announcement because he was the _GM_ , of course he had admin privileges, but still nothing too alarming. All around them, players muttered in appreciation at the flashy display and declaration. Midoku himself relaxed a little, even felt some excitement. Akihiko Kayaba was a well-respected man, one whose achievements had earned Midoku’s respect as well. To meet the man who created the NerveGear and SAO, who had written so many fascinating papers and raised so many companies up from dirt, could be nothing but a good thing.

It had to be a good thing.  
Tesla still stood stiff beside him.

(Something felt _off_ ).

“I’m sure most of you have already noticed that the logout button is missing from the main menu” the robed figure opened the menu to demonstrate. “But let me assure you, this is not a defect of the game. I repeat, this is not a defect, but how Sword Art Online is designed to function.”

“What?” Midoku gasped uncomprehendingly. Tesla’s face was growing grim.

A feature? What did that mean?

(Some part of him was suspecting something horrible, something insidious, but he did not dare to follow that train of thought even if Akihiko seemed intent on dragging them all there).

“No way.”

“It can’t be.”

“What’s going on here?!”

The voice droned on, drowning out the muttering audience.

“You cannot log out of SAO and no one on the outside will be able to shut down or remove the NerveGear. Should anyone attempt to do so, the transmitter inside the NerveGear will emit a strong microwave signal into your skull, destroying your brain and ending your life.”

The crowd had been somewhat agitated before, impatient and annoyed by what appeared to be an otherwise harmless glitched that kept them from logging out yet still entranced by the wonder of the game and the apparent GM’s theatrics. Now, however, discontent began to manifest more aggressively along with the forceful denial of the frightened.

“What! You’ve got to be kidding!”

“There’s no way this guy is telling the truth.”

“Let’s get out of here!”

“Like that could actually happen!”

“The pro-heroes would stop a creep like you, no question!”

But Midoku, Midoku couldn’t deny the possibility that– he didn’t want to, unable to actually think of it directly, but he was too informed to rely on denial and he knew everything Akihiko said was very much possible. He knew the NerveGear inside and out, perhaps not the specifics of the science, but certainly the general concept and design.

“Midoku-kun, do you think the NerveGear is capable of this,” Tesla asked tightly, eyes not leaving the hooded figure.

“It could,” Midoku whispered numbly. “It– the transmitters could kill someone if the safety were disabled. And the NerveGear was designed with an internal battery so cutting the power wouldn’t stop it either.”

“Dammit,” Tesla hissed, more to himself than anything. “Okay, he could be bluffing or Kayaba now has ten thousand hostages.”

Midoku felt faint.

“To be a little more specific,” Akihiko continued, “the conditions to begin the brain destruction sequence are the disconnection from an outside source of electricity for ten minutes, being cut off from the system for more than two hours, or any attempt to unlock, dismantle, or destroy the NerveGear. These conditions have been made sent to the government and the public through mass media and multiple hero agencies.”

To emphasize his point, with a single wave of his arm multiple screens came into existence, all news coverage of not only Akihiko’s demands, but of deaths and grieving families.

“Unfortunately and despite my warning, the families and friends of several players have attempted to remove the NerveGear. As a result, the game now has two hundred and thirteen fewer players than when it began. They have been deleted from both Aincrad, and the real world.”

The air was heavy, ten thousand people frozen in terror. There was some crying, quiet sobbing, and desperate mutterings and mantras and prayers whispered breathlessly, but it was like the majority of them couldn’t even breath. Couldn’t make a move.

There was terrified, horrified _quiet_.

Over two hundred people… dead? Gone? Just like that?! It wasn’t making any sense. It didn’t make sense! They were dead, gone without any of them noticing, just vanishing from existence like nothing?! People, people with families and lives and alive and now–

Beside him, Tesla looked like someone had punched him in the gut.

“Safe to say, the risk of someone removing the NerveGear is now minimal. In a moment, using the two hours I have provided, all of you will be transported to hospitals or similar institutes and be given the best treatment. So you can relax... and concentrate on beating the game.”

What? The game. The _game_. Midoku wanted to laugh or cry, to do something, _anything_ , but he could barely stand.

Except… except Midoku had faith in one thing. Always would have faith in one thing. And even when his knees buckled and he couldn’t see through the tears in his eyes, there was an instinctual belief carved into the core of his being.

“The heroes will save us!” The words burst from his mouth without thought, spoken with the confidence of a man much greater than him. Heroes would stop this villain, would make them all feel hope in the midst of disaster and save them from this death game.

He knew this just like he knew his own name.

But the words echoed in the oppressive quiet, small in the face of the terror of (almost, horrifyingly almost because people were _dead_ ) ten thousand.

Midoku stumbled back, gasping from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Tesla grabbed him before he fell, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Tesla murmured as he steadied him, eyes still locked on the hooded figure. He looked pained. “Drawing his attention to say that wasn’t worth the risk.”

Midoku merely whimpered, tears running down his cheeks.

The hooded figure did not seem to take offence, continuing on with that same monotonous drawl like he hadn’t noticed Midoku’s outburst at all. “The pro-heroes will of course attempt to thwart my plans and save you all before the game reaches completion, but rest assured they will not find me nor will they free you. I have taken measures to ensure everything will continue to function as intended regardless of circumstance. I have even taken into account the many Quirks that could cause issues.”

Midoku was suddenly reminded that his favourite scientific papers written by Akihiko Kayaba—the aspect of the man that turned respect into proper admiration—were on the relationship between Quirks and neuroscience.

“But also, remember the following,” the hooded figure warned. “There is no longer any way to revive someone within the game. If your HP drops to zero, your avatars will be deleted. Simuetainously, the NerveGear will destroy your brain, killing you in real life as well.”

He couldn’t quit describe the rush of horror he felt sweeping through him and driving all coherent thought from his mind. In the beta, Midoku had died. He had died and died, over and over again until he lost count. A learning opportunity, always another chance, that was how worked was treated. It was part of the learning curve, an inconvenience at worst but never a true setback. He lost things and progress but he could always try again. He had died and died and died while figuring things out, killed by even the weakest Frenzied Boar and shattering into light.

He could died. _Everyone_ could die. Most of them didn’t even have the advantage of the beta to prepare them. And this time, they wouldn’t be coming back.

He was going to be sick.

“There is only one way for you all to escape now. You must complete the game.”

A large blue hologram of Aincrad appeared, the lowest level lighting up.

“Right now you are gathered on First Floor of Aincrad, the lowest level. If you can get through the dungeon and defeat the Floor Boss, you may advance to the next floor. Repeat this process and defeat the boss on the One-Hundredth Floor, you will win the game. And if you win, if you reach the top of this castle and defeat the Final Boss, you will be released. On this, I give my word.”

Midoku wanted to scoff. Would have if he were a stronger person. His word? Did Akihiko Kayaba’s word mean anything, or was it an empty promise? Midoku knew people lied, they said things both good and bad and then jerked the rug out from under you just for a good laugh. Always against the people who couldn’t fight back, and right now Akihiko had two hundred less than ten thousand victims who could not fight back.

Was he telling the truth about the death game, or just making a cruel joke?

The crowd was muttering now. Still some crying, but mostly confusion, whispering and doubt creeping back in now that the shock had worn off. What was being said was too horrifying for most to believe. Midoku barely did, his brain stalling whenever he tried to linger on what was happening too long.

A way to escape, but at what would no doubt be a terrible cost. Beating an MMORPG where dying in game actually meant permanent death in real life—people would die. Perhaps most of them. Or all of them.

“And finally, I have provided you all with a gift in your item inventory. One to make you understand just how real this world now is. Please, see for yourselves.”

Midoku’s hands seemed to move on their own as he, and two hundred less than ten thousand players, opened their inventories and selected an item that appeared at the top of their item list. A hand mirror.

A hand mirror, small and unremarkable appeared in his hand. He stared at his reflection, a foreign yet familiar face staring back. Far too grown and adult, rugged and sharp where his real face was round and soft. Unnaturally handsome, perfectly symmetrical, pure wish fulfillment just like everyone else’s avatars.

White light engulfed not just Midoku, but all of them.

~o0o~

A second or two later, the light faded.

“Tesla?!” Midoku called, mirror clutched in trembling hands and looking around frantically for the other player. The world suddenly seemed slightly bigger, or perhaps he had gotten smaller. Panic swelled up within him, choking him.

“Midoku-kun? Is that you?” a stranger asked slowly. A different voice, and Midoku absently noted that the voice modulators must have failed.

(How did VR know how to simulate their voices?)

Except it was not a stranger that had replaced his companion. Midoku recognized him. Broad-shouldered with a square jaw and dark blue hair, the man in front of him was Tensei Iida, also known as the Turbo Hero: Ingenium.

In other circumstances, he would have freaked. A Pro-hero, and such a cool one as well, had been playing SAO with him for the better part of the day. And maybe he would have curled up in embarrassment as well, regretting every dumb thing he said. But Midoku was already well past freaked, incapable of more than widened eyes and his heart momentarily skipping a beat.

“Tesla?!” he choked, desperately trying not to cry and only partially succeeding. And hero or not, Tesla was what he had been calling Ingenium since they had met and it was instinct to use that name.

The people around them all faced similar revelations. All of them had been transformed from idealized attractive adventurers into normal people. Which didn’t mean they weren’t a colourful group—Quirks meant the average person came in a wide array of colours and shapes, and Midoku could spot plenty of players with major mutation Quirks that made them stand out further, perhaps even more than usual—but they looked like actual people rather than unnaturally beautiful models, with all the little imperfections of humanity that implied.

They looked real.

“You’re younger than I thought,” Ingenium realized, mouth a thin line as he grabbed Midoku by the shoulder and pulled him closer. Did that mean Midoku looked like he did in the real world too? He dared a glance at his hand mirror and let it fall to the ground and shatter when it did confirm that yes, his avatar now had his baby face and fluffy green hair. No wonder everything seemed bigger, he was now a scrawny and short fourteen year old. “But how did he do this? How did he make our avatars reflect our real world appearances?” Ingenium wondered, frowning.

Analysis. Midoku needed some good old fashion analysis right now, to drown out the horror and terror and soul-crushing anxiety. He latched onto the questions Ingenium offered.

(Sure, it wasn’t a Quirk, but it was _something_ ).

"There are high density signal sensors in the NerveGear covering our whole head,” Midoku muttered. “So maybe it doesn’t just map our brains, but our faces too… But that still doesn’t explain the bodies. People changed heights and body types and even hair styles. Not to mention there are mutation Quirks, some not even humanoid.”

“When the NerveGear was calibration for the user, you have to pat yourself down. Maybe it was that?” Ingenium suggested.

“Ah, maybe,” Midoku whispered, caught between disagreeing with a pro-hero, not wanting to disagree with a pro-hero/cool guy who didn’t yell at or dismiss him, and the mind-numbing terror of the current situation. “But– but that can’t explain the Quirks. You have your engines, right?”

Midoku had spotted the irregular bulge beneath Ingenium’s sleeves and remembered Ingenium’s Quirk was organic engines in his arms.

Ingenium nodded.

“See, patting yourself down—you wouldn’t get any of that. Not to mention mutation Quirks or other physical abnormalities. There’s too much deviation to generate an accurate model based on so little information. But the NerveGear– yeah, that’d make sense. The NerveGear connects to the nervous system. It has to, in order to intercept signals from to brain and to know what those signals mean. It wouldn’t surprise me if it could map out the entire thing. One might get a 3D model of the human body by mapping the nerves.” Midoku nodded. “It can’t explain the accurate hair or even our voices but… it explains the other details.”

It was honestly insane, but Midoku had no other explanation.

“I guess he really wants to drive home that this is all real,” Ingenium said, glaring up at the robed figure watching the crowd impassively.

Ingenium… he was at the whims of Akihiko, just like the rest of them, wasn’t he? It was weird. Midoku knew Ingenium as a hero and an idol in bright silver armour that hid his face. Even out of the suit as Tensei Iida, at interviews and charity events, Midoku had never really been able to separate him from the cool pro-hero. But now he was also Tesla, the nice player dressed in the same weak armour as the rest of them, who had a little brother he thought was a little uptight but clearly loved and got sent flying by a Frenzied Boar because he got distracted, and still hung around Midoku even though he could party up with so many better people. He was standing with them, beside them, one of less than ten thousand and just as much a victim of a megalomaniac’s schemes as the rest of them.

He didn’t make Midoku feel victory was certain, that Ingenium would single-handedly defeat the villain and save them all. Nothing like All Might. But with his firm hand on Midoku’s shoulder and staring at the hooded figure like he would gladly get into a Quirkless fist-fight to defend them all, Midoku couldn’t help but feel… safer.

Not safe, but safer. He clung to that feeling like a drowning rat in the sea.

“You will all most probably be wondering why. Why am I—the developer of both the NerveGear and Sword Art Online, Akihiko Kayaba—doing something like this? Is this a sort of terrorist attack? Is he doing this to ransom us?” the hooded figure mused. “It is none of that. My goal has already been achieved. The reason I created Sword Art Online was to create and meddle with a world of my own design. And now, it is complete.”

They were trapped in a death game by a complete madman. A villain.

He had just been home this morning, eating breakfast with his mom while excitedly rambling on about how great SAO was. His mom, who he now probably wouldn’t see for several months _at least_ , maybe longer. If he ever saw her again at all. If he ever got out, if he didn’t die here, if they all didn’t die.

“This ends the tutorial and the official launch of Sword Art Online,” the hooded figure declared, slowly fading into nothing. “Players, I wish you luck.”

There was dead, terrified silence.

Then, someone screamed. Long and thin, it pierced the air and broke whatever spell the crowd was under.

“This is a joke, right? It has to be a joke?!”

“What the fuck, what the fuck!”

“We’re going to die here!”

“No! I’ve got a meeting, you have to let me go!”

“I wanna go home! I don’t like this, I wanna go home!”

“Let me out! Let me out damn you!”

Pandemonium filled the plaza. Players screamed and howled, begged and cursed, clinging to each other or waving their fists at the sky like they were raging at the indifferent god Kayaba might as well be.

Tes– Ingeniu– Tesla’s hand was gripping his shoulder tightly and holding him in place, staring ahead at the place the hooded figure once was with a stony expression. It didn’t really matter though. Midoku was too numb to move except for the slight tremble in his limbs.

Except, no, he wasn’t entirely numb. He could feel something, an echo of pain. His arm, the one Tesla wasn’t holding, where Kacchan had burned him. It throbbed like it was still flesh and blood, not ones and zeros.

This was reality now, their reality.

Their world, as they knew it, had ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izuku’s really going through some mood swings though, even before the entire death game was revealed. I honestly worried I was making him cry too much but… Izuku’s been pretty happy all day, filled with simulated adrenaline and hanging out with such a cool guy and then suddenly the cool guy is saying he can be a hero? Him? And friends? Without a hint of sarcasm? His poor heart can’t take it.
> 
> Poor kid though. He isn’t Kirito, he’s Izuku Midoriya so he’s a lot less cool-headed about the entire trapped in a death game thing.


	4. The Outside World, Three Hours Before

Last Chapter: Tesla has a deep discussion with Midoku about heroes and family at sunset. An announcement is made in the city square. Akihiko lays down the rules of his death game and the world ends.

~o0o~

Three hours before the world fell apart for those inside the death game, it collapsed for all those they left outside of it.

Inko Midoriya was at the Bakugous’, sitting at the table with Mitsuki as they drank tea and chatted. The two of them had become friends when their sons were toddlers and during a rough patch in both their lives. Inko’s husband had just left to work overseas and Mitsuki’s father, her only parent after her mother left when she was young, had recently passed. Both women were very different but got along well, and more importantly they both needed someone else to lean on outside their homes, especially Inko.

Inko did not have many people other than her son, and Mitsuki, as abrasive as she could be, recognized that Inko was a fragile woman who would likely wither if left alone. So Mitsuku was comparatively gentle with Inko, and Inko, already rather non-confrontational and desperate for an adult to talk to, fracturing under isolation and stress, kept quiet any grievances or concerns she had about Katsuki’s behaviour.

They didn’t get a chance to talk as often as they once did, not since the relationship between Katsuki and Izuku had become twisted into something neither of them liked to think about. There were a lot of regrets between them, and a lot of harsh words unsaid.

Two unhealthy extremes, were Inko and Mitsuki, their own dysfunctions indirectly expressed through their sons.

There would be a time when all the things between them would explode, when Inko’s resentment finally escaped the locked box where it was silently festering, when Mitsuki would say all the harsh criticisms she had about how she thought Inko had been too weak or spineless in regards to raising her son. Inko should have been stronger, should have been able to confront to problem, should have raised her son tougher. Mistuki should have disciplined her son more, should have shown him to speak rather than hit, should have taught him to protect the weak rather than scorn them. They both should have done _something_. But that time was not now. Not tonight.

So they let things lie, let things get worse, and spoke of inconsequential things.

The shadows were just beginning to stretch as the sun started its downward journey, the sky still bright and blue. The inside of the Bakugous home was well lit and warm, sunlight streaming through the open window. Inko was smiling softly as she looked down, rubbing her thumbs along the rim of her mug while Mitsuki complained about work.

“–and then he had the fucking _nerve_ to say it was my fault?! I may not do much modelling anymore but I know when a dress doesn’t fit and that bastard can go shove a–”

Inko nodded politely, content to listen.

Katsuki came stomping down the stairs, gaining the momentary attention of the two women. “Hey Auntie. Hey old hag,” he greeted cooly, about as friendly as the boy got these days. It was either anger, smugness, or apathy with him. He headed to the fridge and pulled out a jug of water.

“Brat,” Mitsuki acknowledged, but not without affection.

“Hello Katsuki,” Inko replied kindly, something becoming a little tight in her chest.

She had conflicted feelings about Mitsuki’s son. Some part of her resented Katsuki. She knew he participated in the bullying and the harassment, how he sometimes hurt her son and never once stepped in to protect him. Sometimes she spotted the small burns that appeared on Izuku’s arms, or she noticed the school uniforms Izuku so often stained to the point of needing replacements were almost always charred in some way.

The rest cared for him, as the child of her best (only) friend, as the toddler she used to babysit until he and Izuku couldn’t be in the same room without violence, and as the boy her son insisted was still good, was still his friend even if he was also a jerk.

Katsuki was just a child, she knew that. A child who had been taught to value strength and not compassion. A brilliant, determined, _cruel_ child. A child she could not bring herself to confront like she could not confront her own son.

She tried not to be bitter.

(But, of course, she was unaware of the full story. Her son told her nothing anymore, leaving her to figure out what she did not want to believe was true. She didn’t know just how often Katsuki had burned her son, had set off explosions close enough to his face to make his ears ring, and how much he led in the cruelty of his classmates rather than passively letting him happen. All to teach him his place, because Izuku was Quirkless, was weak, was _lesser_. Maybe if she did, she would not be as conflicted on how to feel, even if she was not bold enough to say anything).

“Anyways, as I was saying, this guy goes on about how there’s no way he messed up even though he was the only other–”

After downing his water in three large gulps, Katsuki turned on his phone, scrolling down some website or another as he leaned against the counter. Then he stiffened.

“–and then I said–”

“Auntie,” Katsuki interrupted, eyes locked on the screen. “Shitty deku–“ Inko hated that nickname. “–mentioned you bought him a stupid game at school. It was called… fucking… Sword Art Online, right?” he asked slowly, almost… hesitantly. And Katsuki was not a hesitant boy.

“Don’t use that insult,” Mitsuki snapped, then paused when Katsuki didn’t snarl back as he usually did. In fact, he was unusually still.

“Yes, I did. Why do you ask?” Inko was at the Bakugous’ tonight specifically to give her son at least one full day to enjoy his game in peace.

Katsuki did not respond except to swear heavily, launching himself towards the living room with an urgency he had never displayed before.

Both women followed the boy, confused and worried. Katsuki did not show fear, he did not _panic_. He perceived both as weakness and he had been sheltered and coddled enough from the world that he had never encountered anything that had broken through the certainty that he could take on anything and anyone. But in that moment, he looked absolutely terrified.

Katsuki snatched up the remote and turned the television on.

An emergency broadcast.

~o0o~

Tenya Iida was a very proud boy. Not in the sense that he was arrogant or self-important—quite the opposite in fact. While he had a tendency to appear condescending to others when he lectured them on their mannerisms or behaviours, it was because he truly believed people were capable of being their best selves at all times (and he had a very specific idea of what people’s best selves were, something he would grow out of with time). He held himself to those same high standards and found himself frequently humbled when he failed to live up to them.

It was understandable he had such faith in the potential for excellence in others and himself, what with his family. Starting with his grandmother, they had all been pro-heroes, and rather exemplary ones at that. Not a single one had been anything less than noble and utterly devoted to saving others. They also stood out as a multi-generational hero family in a world where most pros held off having children until after retirement, if they ever bothered. It was quite a legacy, and a lot of pressure for a teenager to be under.

Tenya’s older brother Tensei was already a pro-hero, a U.A. alumni who started his agency only a year after he graduated. He employed dozens of smaller heroes as sidekicks, not only as employees but as potential heroes to mentor into independence. He used his brand in order to promote dozens of charities and causes. He was strong and kind and had a sense of integrity that could match All Might’s. He was everything an Iida should be as a hero.

He was Tenya’s hero, the man he looked up to and sometimes doubted he could ever match. In Tenya’s opinion, Tensei was the best of all of them.

In a way, Tenya was sheltered. Living in a family of pro-heroes meant he was intimately familiar with the more unglamorous side of being a hero in a way most were not, the dangers and hardships and the time it devoured until so little was left, but it was still from a distance. He had a conviction that his family, especially his brother, could never lose. Not really. They were heroes after all, the best type of hero. Even when they were hurt, even when they were knocked down, they always got back up.

(The only member of his family to die as a hero had been his grandmother, losing her life when he was but a few months old. He could not remember her).

Tenya had never seen his father lying limp on a stretcher with an oxygen mask held to his face, paramedics pressing on wounds to keep the blood in. Never watched in numb horror as doctors barked orders and nurses hurried to and fro with a professional sort of urgency his mother’s life near slipped away from their experienced hands. He had never seen his brother, quiet, sitting on rubble with his helmet in his hands, gloves streaked red after a disaster took lives he could not save. No, he had only seen them in the after, sitting up in a hospital bed with clean bandages and tired eyes still bright with awareness and life.

It was good that he had never experienced that. No child should. But it meant that while there had been close calls and Tenya knew that there had been close calls, had dwelled on what ifs and could have beens, there was still a distance between him and his worst fears. Between him and his world crumbling down.

It was three hours before for their world. It was right now for his.

Tenya didn’t know what was going on. His father refused to tell him. All he knew was that his mother had rushed out of the house with the urgency of a hero responding to a crisis, only this time she had not donned her costume, while his father paced the living room with a stern look on his face and his cell phone in his hand.

“Not now, Tenya,” was all it took to stop Tenya from pushing the matter. His father’s tone left no room for argument, far too grave and worried to be protested (not that Tenya would have otherwise). So instead Tenya sat on the couch, trying to read a book while one eye followed his father’s agitated movements.

The phone rang, making both Iidas start.

His father answered before the first ring was even done.

“Yes?”

The man’s face went from upset to devastated in moments as the tiny voice on the phone—feminine, upset, and Tenya suspected it was his mother—said a few quick words. Tenya was disturbed—and scared—to see the expression on his father’s face, such a strong and brave man, go from worried to absolutely shattered in the span of a few seconds.

Then, his eyes flickered to Tenya, something like dread colouring his face once he saw his second-born son.

“Yes, we’ll be there soon. I love you.” The man said before ending the call, his gaze never straying from Tenya.

The youngest Iida, however much he wished to know what was going on, looked at his father’s face and feared what he was about to be told.

~o0o~

Three hours before the victims learned that they were victims, their families were shattered.

“…and we repeat, if someone you know is wearing NerveGear, do not remove it. The NerveGear has been rigged to kill the user if removed. If someone you know is wearing NerveGear and logged in to the new game Sword Art Online, contact this hotline and authorities will provide further instruction.” The newscaster paused, taking a steadying breath and readying himself to repeat the announcement. “This is an emergency broadcast. One hour ago, Akihiko Kayaba, professor of Naabo University and head developer of the new game Sword Art Online, has sent to multiple news stations, government officials and pro-hero offices a video in which he explains–”

“What– I-I don’t…” Inko couldn’t breath, the newscaster speaking in a language she did not understand. She couldn’t breath. The ground was spinning.

“They’re trapped in the game, that’s what they’re saying,” Katsuki said coldly, bright red eyes locked on the tv as the newscaster continued to recount Akihiko’s declaration of intent. “Some fucker trapped them in the game and is killing them when they lose. He’s…” Katsuki choked before growling, hurling the remote at the wall with a small explosion. It was already in pieces before it left this hand.

She didn’t… she couldn’t…

Mitsuki grabbed Inko and pulled her into a fierce embrace. Inko didn’t react.

Her world was crumbling.

~o0o~

Three hours had passed since Akihiko Kayaba had announced to the world that he had trapped ten thousand people in a game and fried the brains of over two hundred of them.

The CEO of Argus, an older man with greying hair and five black orb-like eyes stood in front of the company’s main building, sweating profusely as reporters and cameras crowded him. He looked incredibly distressed. On either side stood pro-heroes Fourth Kind and Fat Gum, wearing expressions of cold fury, acting both as protection and as wardens as they guided the man through the crowd.

Inside the building, programmers and staff were being interrogated by police and pro-heroes. One after another, they were taken into a room and ask questions, not just about their involvement but the game itself. There was a hero in the room with those waiting at all times, making sure they didn’t coordinate their stories or bolt. Another two went down to the basement to secure the servers with an IT specialist brought in by the police.

Meanwhile, across the city, a warehouse door was kicked open with a crash, pro-hero Miruko bursting through with a vicious snarl on her face. What stared back at her was nothing. Another empty building, stripped bare with only a single transmitter on the concrete floor. Another false lead after dozens of others. A sight that greeted heroes over and over as they tore the city apart, trying to find Akihiko Kayaba.

Contacts were called, strings were pulled. The available underground heroes funnelled what information they could find to the police while pursuing their own leads. So far, progress was sparse. Apparently, Akihiko’s dislike for the public eye did not mean he socialized with the darker crowds of society—he truly kept to himself.

Ten thousand hostages, many of them minors.

Sir Nighteye pulled out another report, another bundle of information on the target from credit card history to university library rentals. There had to be some clue, a common thread _somewhere_ that would lead them to the man. If he was not found, Sir Nighteye may have to use Foresight on the hostages to learn how to save them. If they could save them at all.

_Ten thousand hostages, over two hundred already dead._

Hawks, a relatively new hero not long out of school, swooped down to the next target even though he knew the apartment would likely be empty. Ryukyo tore open a safety deposit box with her bare hands, the bank manager watching nervously as she cursed when all she found was several bricks. False trail after false trail, fake bank accounts, signals that bounced from router to router, multiple properties, fake identities, shell companies, rental cars, plane tickets, none of which led them to the villain. They had too many leads and none of them real, all purposefully laid down by Akihiko Kayaba to obscure his true location.

All Might stared, skinny and drained of strength, at his phone.

To save these people, the Number One Hero asked himself, against an enemy he could not find, what could he do?

~o0o~

And as the outside world spun into a panic, Akihiko Kayaba observed his own and mused upon their dependancy on pro-heroes to assure safety, wondering how the players would react when they figured out the pro-heroes they had always relied upon could not save them. That in SAO, they had to be their own heroes.

He smiled.

He was sure that enough of them would make the transition just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all seriousness, SAO always seemed to understate just how horrifying the situation must have been for the people outside. And in a world of heroes like BNHA, where threats are usually taken down by punching? (I mean, obviously not always, underground heroes and the police all have their important jobs but as far as the public is concerned, crime is mostly stopped with punching) This would be terrifying because the villain who now has ten thousand hostages and has already fried two hundred of them, probably right in front of their families and friends, can’t be found (and punched). How are they supposed to beat up a villain who can kill ten thousand people with the push of a button, who has hidden himself so thoroughly that no one can find him? Even All For One can be punched. I mean, you gotta punch him real hard, but he can still be punched.
> 
> Wth how hero-society reacted to AFO and Stain, I would guess the government would try and cover up the SAO thing in order to prevent a panic, but since Kayaba sent his warning to mass media as well as the heroes and government, not to mention the sheer amount of victims and families who know exactly what’s going on, they can’t hide this. Public faith in heroes is gonna take a huge hit. And for the families and friends of the hostages? This isn’t a normal kidnapping situation. From their perspective, this is a kill switch on their comatose loved ones. They get front row seats to their loved ones lying completely limp in bed for potentially years, waiting to see whether they will wake up or, without warning, have their brain microwaved in front of them. It’s a special kind of torture and a special kind of helplessness.


	5. The Game Begins

Last Chapter: Inko Midoriya is at the Bakugou house when she hears the news of SAO. Of her son. Tenya Iida watches as his father and mother panic, dreading what he is about to be told. Heroes all over Japan search for Akihiko Kayaba... to no avail. Two hundred and thirteen hostages have already been killed. How many will survive until Kayaba is caught, or, perhaps some dare wonder, until the game is finished.

~o0o~

_Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump._ Midoku could barely hear the panicking crowd over the deafening pounding of his heart. It almost hurt, slamming into his ribcage with every beat. How, some numb part of him wondered, how could SAO so perfectly simulate the sensation of blood being pumped so hard through his veins that it made him twitch.

_Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump_. Though perhaps, rather than his heartbeat being loud enough to drown out everything else, it was that he was hearing everything else all from a distance. That the world around him had become muffled, the screaming and sobbing heard through the thick plane of glass that now stood between him and the world.

But it was still so loud! _Ba-thump! Ba-thump! Ba-thump!_ Still overwhelming, still blinding, the blood rushing in his ears and his vision growing spotty as he swayed, held up only be the hand gripping his shoulder. And it was growing faster and faster and louder and louder, crashing down and smothering all conscious thought other than nonono _nononono_ –

_Bathumpbathumpbathump!_ Faster, faster, faster his heart went, trying desperately to spread oxygen to the rest of his paralyzed body because– because–

He wasn’t breathing.

_BATHUMPBATHUMPBATHUMP!_ He wasn’t breathing! He opened his mouth and tried to inhale but he couldn’t, he couldn’t! Like saran wrap had been stretched across the inside of his throat, with every attempted breath the suffocation became tighter and tighter and he couldn’t– he wasn’t–

Ohgodohgodohgod he was going to die! He was going to–

What would happen to his mother if he died?

Something in him… something important… snapped. Whether it was something important snapping back into place or something important shattering like thin glass, he did not know, but a sort of clarity returned. He took a gasping breath. And with it, his surroundings suddenly became not so distant, but a claustrophobic, crushing sea of fear and noise that threatened to subsume him.

Now suffocating in a different way, he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t handle it, this, everything. He needed out, he needed somewhere else, anywhere else! He needed somewhere quiet to break down and pull himself together before something vital permanently cracked under the pressure.

He wasn’t thinking, only acting on instincts both natural and learned. He yanked his shoulder out of Tesla’s grip and bolted.

It hurt, to leave what little comfort Tesla’s presence offered, but it hurt more to stay. Midoku needed _out_ and his feet moved on their own.

“Wait! Midoku!” Tesla yelled after the fleeing boy, hesitating for a single painful moment before pursuing.

Midoku did not slow or even really hear, stumbling through the turbulent crowd with heaving, gasping sobs shaking his scrawny frame and making him dizzy. Tesla, despite being taller and not crying so much that his vision was blurry and he couldn’t breath properly, was much larger than Midoku and had to push his way through the frightened mob which slowed him down.

Midoku burst out of the edge of the crowd and ran down one of the many streets at a full sprint, not paying any mind to where he was going. Eventually he was forced to stop as his stamina ran low, leaning heavily against an alley wall and dry heaving, his legs trembling with exertion.

“Midoku!” Tesla had caught up quickly, what with his longer legs and clearer head. Still, he was winded, breathing heavily and holding his side. Didn’t invest enough points into Stamina.

Tesla took another deep breath and straightened, anger (anger born of worry, though Midoku could not recognize it, used to only the tears of his mother and the anger of his once-friend) on his face. “Midoku-kun, don’t– you can’t run off like that!”

Midoku flinched, drawing away as his heart rate spiked again. “I–I’m–” He couldn’t speak, the ground spinning as he clutched the wall. Why was Tesla even here? He should be back in the town square, helping people, not wasting time.

Tesla paused. His expression, while still serious, still stern, lost some of its anger. “Midoku-kun, you need to breath,” he ordered.

“I–I’m… trying!” Midoku gasped, tears flooding his vision once again. The more he tried, the more upset he got. He had to tell Tesla to leave, to be Ingenium and help all the scared and panicking people back in the town square rather then letting Midoku’s problems get in the way, but he couldn’t get the words out. He was so useless, being such a problem to a pro-hero in an emergency situation like this.

Tesla took a step forward and Midoku tensed, his entire body thrumming with adrenaline as he prepared to run again before he could be grabbed. He was good at running away. Tesla froze, not taking another step. Instead, he held up his open palms.

“Breath in through your nose,” Tesla instructed, “and hold it for three seconds. Then, exhale slowly through your mouth. See? Breath in, hold it. One, two, three, and then long exhale. Inhale, one two three, exhale.”

Midoku obeyed—it was hard not to when Tesla spoke with such authority—following Tesla’s guidance until his convulsive sobs slowly turning into shaky breathing. Tesla inched closer, cautiously, with his palms still out like approaching a skittish animal.

As soon as he could, still choking on barely suppressed tears, he swallowed uncomfortably and forced himself to speak. “You need to go. Y-you’re Ingenium. You’re a hero. You– you have to help them.” His voice was raw and thick and he hated how small it was.

“Of course I will,” Tesla said immediately, apparently not surprised Midoku recognized him. “I’m going to try and meet up with some sidekicks of mine who were also playing and help people the best we can. But I can’t let you run off by yourself either. You’ll be much safer with us.”

Midoku shook his head desperately, trying to hold himself together because nothing made sense and _why wasn’t Tesla leaving?!_ “No, I can’t! I’d– I’d just be in the way!” Oh god, he was starting to cry again.

“Midoku, that’s not–”

“I w-won’t let myself be a– a burden when you have s-so many other people to help!” Midoku continued with increasing hysteria, stumbling back. “I’ll be fine! You need to help them! Please, help them!” he begged.

“You could die!” Tesla exclaimed, frustration finally bleeding through and making his voice crack. “Let me help–”

“No!” Midoku shouted, recoiling from Tesla’s outstretched hand. “I can’t!”

Midoku knew how to play SAO. He was terrified he was going to die, but he also knew he wasn’t helpless. He had an advantage, being a beta-tester, that most of the other players did not have. They needed Ingenium far more than he did.

(Ingenium was only one man and Midoku was no fool. Ingenium alone or with a few of his sidekicks couldn’t protect everyone. Tesla shouldn’t waste his limited energy on someone like Midoku).

And sure, maybe he could justify going with Tesla—of not being _alone_ and _scared_ —if he pretended that being a beta-tester meant he could help Ingenium save people, that he could be a boon rather than a burden, but Midoku refused to lie to himself when lives were on the line. Just because he had a better chance of surviving this hell didn’t mean he wasn’t deku, wasn’t _useless_. If he went with Tesla, he’d just be a distraction, not a help. A distraction the hero did not need.

Midoku might be able to protect himself, _maybe_ , but he couldn’t protect anyone else. He was too weak and he knew it.

But, if he could reduce the burden placed on one of the only heroes who could help the ten thousand people (not ten thousand, the nine thousand seven hundred and eighty seven _left_ because two hundred and thirteen were _dead_ ) trapped in SAO… well, maybe that would be enough.

Tesla wouldn’t agree, Midoku realized with a jolt of understanding. He could see it in the stubborn set of his jaw, in the determination in his eyes. Unless the issue was forced, Tesla would try to help Midoku as well as all those terrified people in the town square even though every second spent helping Midoku was a second better spent helping someone else.

Alright then. Midoku would force the issue.

Midoku took a step back. Then another. He was still crying, but purpose and determination kept him moving.

“Midoku, don’t–”

“I’m sorry,” Midoku choked, turning to run.

He barely moved before Tesla lunged, grabbing Midoku’s arm in an iron grip. Midoku froze, protests trapped in his throat. If he tried to move, if he truly tried to struggle free, the system would interfere and make Tesla let go. They were in a safe zone after all. But… he didn’t.

The alley was silent.

“Alright,” Tesla finally said tightly, shoulders slumping.

“W-what?”

“Alright.” Tesla raised his head to look Midoku in the eyes, his mouth a thin line. “I can’t stop you. I can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

Midoku flinched at the self-loathing and frustration in Tesla’s voice. The furious resignation for that which he could not change.

“But you’re adding me to your friends list. No arguments.”

A startled “Why?” escaped Midoku’s mouth before he could stop it.

“For my peace of mind.”

“I–”

“Please, Midoku.”

Tesla let Midoku go and Midoku… he did not run. He frowned, little strangled sobs occasionally forcing their past his lips before he could stop them, but he did not run.

“O-okay,” Midoku relented, something like relief blooming in his chest. He couldn’t burden Tesla, he _refused_ , but… but maybe he didn’t have to be entirely alone.

Midoku sent the friend request, trying to ignore the absence of the log out button the best he could. Tesla accepted. And while Tesla did not look the least bit satisfied, eyes hard and expression tense, but he did not try and stop Midoku when he turned away and began to run.

“Midoku-kun!” Tesla suddenly shouted, mere moments before Midoku turned down another side-street and out of sight. Midoku paused, but did not look back.

(If he looked back, his resolve would break. He would let Tesla take him back to the city square, let himself be saved, be safe, be a _burden_ ).

“Just… I can’t save you. But I’m trusting you to save yourself.”

Midoku gritted his teeth and clenched his trembling hands, tears dripping from his chin onto his shirt. It took everything in him to stay upright and not collapse into messy bawling. He looked up at the strip of evening sky above him, visible between the tall buildings, beautiful and warm as the sun prepared to vanish below the horizon and usher in the dark night.

“Stay safe,” he barely managed before bursting into a sprint, running and running far far away from the square, away from Tesla, away from giant hooded figures and threats of death. He ran through winding streets and shadowed alleys until he reached the edge of the city, where he fell to his knees and cried like a child.

_…save yourself._

But he didn’t know where to even start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short for a full chapter, but trying to extend it farther felt awkward. I needed a “Midoku leaves Tesla” scene but that also felt like an ending to the chapter and I couldn’t find anything to put in beforehand and… ah, whatever. I’m doing this for free, you get what you get.
> 
> Anyways, Izuku’s sacrificial streak finally appears in all it’s self-destructive glory. He isn’t Kirito—Izuku would run into a burning building to help someone else from the start and I can’t imagine him giving up a chance to team up with someone he likes, let alone a pro-hero, in a literal death game in order to gain an advantage—but he needed a reason to go solo. So shitty self-esteem issues it is!
> 
> Poor Tensei though. He’s so stressed, being pretty much the only major pro-hero in SAO. He wants to help Izuku but the kid is making things difficult. He can’t force Izuku to stick around but he can’t follow him either, not when there’s the members of Team Idaten to find and so many civilians in danger (and Tensei knows he can’t save all of them, especially since he isn’t the right type of leader for organizing such a large group of people, but he can’t just leave them with trying. Soon he’ll figure out he’s better suited trying to get them out of the game as fast as possible as a Clearer). It really sucks, especially since their dynamic is so much different to Kirito and Klein's. Izuku isn't cool-headed and in-control, he's this nervous stuttering tiny kid who is clearly terrified out of his mind but still begging a hero to help anyone but him because he clearly has some deep self-esteem issues. Tensei isn't some random guy, he's a hero, someone who has dedicated his life to helping others only now without other heroes to share the burden with he can't afford to do anything but prioritize the many and he doesn't have time to talk Izuku through enough of his issues to accept help. Not to mention those big brother instincts.


	6. The First Night pt 1: Horunka

Last Chapter: After Kayaba’s reveal that all players are now trapped in SAO until it is won, with the game itself now having deadly consequences, Midoku has a minor breakdown and flees. Tesla runs after him and they talk, but when Tesla asks to stick together, Midoku refuses. He doesn’t want to be a burden, let alone upon a pro-hero who will have his hands full with SAO’s new stakes. Thus, Midoku leaves Tesla and the safety he offers behind.

~o0o~

He was Izuku Midoriya and he was fourteen years old. He had fluffy dark green hair that looked black until the light hit it just right and large expressive green eyes, both of which he inherited from his mother. He had pronounced freckles dusted across his cheeks and a round, youthful face. When he smiled, his entire face lit up. When he cried, tears poured like rivers. His father left to work overseas when he was young and his contact with the man was minimal. He had the best mom in the whole world, who loved him so much even though all he did was make her cry and cry and cry. He was Quirkless. He was weak. He was friends with a boy named Katsuki Bakugou who constantly reminded him of those facts. The label of friend was used only because they knew each other too well to be mere acquaintances and Izuku did not hate Kacchan nearly enough to call him an enemy. Anyway, if Kacchan was not his friend that meant he didn’t have any friends at all, and that was far too sad to consider. That was Izuku Midoriya.

Name: Izuku Midoriya  
Quirk: Quirkless  
Notes: In a world of superheroes, some are born without power. They have no Quirk and that is all there is to it. It does not define them. It should not define them.

He was Izuku and he was fourteen years old. He played video games when he needed a break from life and watched heroes with a wide-eyed passion and joy that he found nowhere else. His favourite hero and idol was All Might, not because All Might was the strongest or most popular but because All Might saved people with a smile. He dreamed of being a hero, but no one had ever told him it was okay to even dream. That was Izuku.

Name: Izuku  
Quirk: Deku  
Notes: That’s not all there is to it, not even close. Not everyone is born equal, and some are born inherently lesser. He learned this at four years old. Quirkless meant worthless, meant useless, meant not even human; it meant deku, just a doll, a thing that shouldn’t dare dream of being more.

He was Midoku and he was fourteen years old. He had a sword on his back that he knew how to use and the threat of death hanging over his head. He had just refused the protection of a pro-hero so that he would not be a burden upon someone who had a much more important job to do. He had been ordered to save himself. That was Midoku.

Username: Midoku  
Quirk: Nothing  
Notes: He was nothing in many eyes, and a burden in the rest. But what did it matter?

He was Midoku and he was fourteen years old. He had a mother who cried and cried and cried and probably wouldn’t survive him not making it home.

Name: Midoku  
Quirk: None  
Notes: What other choice did he have?

He was Midoku and he was Izuku and he was Izuku Midoriya and he was Midoku. He was fourteen years old. He was Quirkless and deku and nothing and none. Aincrad had one hundred floors of obstacles, of enemies, of traps between him and freedom. One hundred floors stacked on top of each other and floating in the sky. It wasn’t real, not really. It was all a game, playing pretend, only now losing meant death. Death made it more than a game, more than pretend, and more than just a fantasy in which he mattered. And despite all of that, he couldn’t die here.

He was going to make it home.

He was going to save himself.

Name: Midoku Izuku Midoriya  
Quirk: N/A  
Notes: A child born without power. A child who wanted to live. A child with a mother. What else mattered?

He was going to survive.

And that was all there was to it.

~o0o~

Midoku was going to survive. And without raw power, that meant thinking. Meant planning. Meant taking every advantage there was to come out on top. But first, standing on the boundary between the town and the wilds, between safety and risk, he had to calm down. Had to make a decision. Had to _think_.

It took a bit to pull himself together, to slow his breathing and blink back the tears, but once he did, new determination flared. The kind that led him to shove himself between Kacchan and whatever poor victim had managed to offend the blond, again and again. The kind that made him hide injuries from his mother so she wouldn’t get upset. The kind that, with no regard for himself, allowed him to stand his ground for however long he needed so long as it was for someone else.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, corrupted by desperation and fear, but it worked. He swallowed his terror, his fear, his uncertainty, and he thought.

And thought and thought and thought and–

~o0o~

The first floor of Aincrad was ten kilometres across, making it roughly eighty squared kilometres. The Town of Beginnings was the largest settlement on the floor with a diameter of one kilometre, pressed right up against the southern edge of Aincrad with only a wrought iron fence between it and the endless sky. It was also incredibly dense, with tight streets and an unusual amount of inns.

Which made sense as the primary hub, but Midoku wondered if Akihiko Kayaba had made sure the Town of Beginnings could accommodate so many people because he had already known the players would need a more permanent place to stay. How long had he been planning this death game? From the beginning of SAO’s development? Or as far back as the invention of the NerveGear? Everything had to be reevaluated now, and now his head also spun with questions instead of just panic.

No, he had to focus. Focus. He had to live. Somehow.

Midoku did not think he could benefit from staying in the Town of Beginnings, not unless he intended to stay there forever. This realization came with a cold, sinking feeling, staring at the open fields from just within the boundary of the city’s safe zone, tears still drying on his face. The sun was still setting but within an hour or two, night would come and while the nocturnal mobs would pose no greater challenge, they would bring no greater reward either (but they could still hurt him, they could all still _kill him_ ). The Town of Beginnings was no place to find good gear or quests. It was meant to be a hub of shops and cheap residences and soon the surrounding areas would be wiped clean once the other players recovered from their shock, not that the mobs in the area were worth much exp or Col anyway. Mobs respawned of course, but so many players would strain the respawn rate.

If he never left the safety of the Town of Beginnings, if he didn’t need to grow stronger, it wouldn’t matter. He could wait and never leave the safe zone, never risk his life. But…

In the beta test, he had a chance to explore. He knew a good early hunting ground, one he had scouted in preparation for the full release. One with a very valuable quest. If he left, if he steeled his heart and decided to brave the now frighteningly lethal world, he should do so now.

Midoku had decided he was going to survive. He wasn’t going to just give up and die. He had a mother to go home to and Tesla had asked him to save himself and quite frankly, Midoku _did not want to die_. But now he had a decision to make. He had to decide _how_ to stay alive.

~o0o~

Option one, he could stay in the Town of Beginnings and wait this entire situation out, or find somewhere else safe where he wouldn’t be a distraction. They could be rescued any moment after all, and everyone knew that during an emergency you were supposed to evacuate somewhere safe and wait to be rescued. The pro-heroes could find the villain who trapped them all. The game could be potentially hacked and the death condition disabled. The NerveGear might have a non-lethal method of removal that hadn’t been discovered yet. But that still meant survival, for however long it would take. However…

Midoku may not know much, but he knew Akihiko Kayaba was a brilliant man.

(The most dangerous kind).

Even if the heroes found Kayaba, and Midoku doubted someone as smart as Kayaba would do something like this without hiding himself so thoroughly that he felt like he couldn’t be found, there was no guarantee they could get him to release everyone from SAO. Villains weren’t always rational and if Kayaba was simply crazy or doing this for some sort of more abstract reason, he might even choose death over letting them go. And the programming used for SAO was science fiction levels of absurdly advanced and completely unique, pioneered entirely by Kayaba himself. Freeing them by disabling the NerveGear somehow—two-hundred less than ten thousand of them, all at once, or else they might just end up triggering a fail-safe and killing them all—or hacking the game was at least going to take a lot of time.

Of course there might not even _be_ a death penalty. Akihiko Kayaba could be lying. For sick pleasure, or a social experiment? Maybe using them as hostages for some reason? Why would he do this, and for what benefit? Why be known as a mass murdering villain when he had a pretty nice life as a well-respected scientist and game designer? And while the NerveGear could _theoretically_ kill someone, could a household gaming system really end a life? Sure, they had been shown the news reports, but those could be faked.

(Instinct told him that Akihiko Kayaba had been completely serious. With how he had been acting, stern-faced and tense, Tesla certainly thought so as well).

Regardless, Midoku was not certain that anyone in the real world could save them. It was a possibility, but he wasn’t sure. Being such a hero nerd, he was at least conceptually aware that heroes sometimes failed (except for All Might of course, because All Might never lost). They even died. He didn’t think about it much but after seeing Ingenium so human, so _vulnerable_ in the face of Kayaba’s declaration, the fact that the heroes could potentially lose was impossible to overlook.

(That outburst, that moment of shining _belief_ in heroes as Kayaba’s faceless avatar stared down at them all seemed so far away now)

And if the heroes didn’t save them (and Tesla wouldn’t have been so grim if that wasn’t a possibility, he thinks), that meant the best chance they had on getting out was trusting Kayaba’s word that clearing the game would free them. That any one of them winning the game would save them all.

If that was the case, Midoku could still hide, still wait it out while other people, people who weren’t trained heroes but normal people like him (because Ingenium couldn’t clear an MMO like this alone, no one could) took all the risk, but… it left a foul taste in his mouth. He wanted to live, needed to live, was terrified of dying and what it would do to his mom, but he couldn’t just let other people risk themselves without doing the same. He couldn’t be so selfish, so cowardly when he could do something. What, he didn’t know, but he had to do _something_.

So, option two.

~o0o~

Option two, he could venture out and risk death to progress.

Progress to what, he didn’t know. He certainly wasn’t going to be on the front lines, taking down bosses and clearing dungeons. He was good at SAO but bosses took teamwork and Midoku had never been so much a team player as a team weakness, which was one thing in the beta but in an actual life or death scenario? No. And taking one down solo was crazy. _Insane._

But Midoku was a beta-tester which meant he had a better chance of surviving at least the first few floors than most people. He wasn’t strong enough to not drag down any group he joined (Kacchan made sure he knew this, everyone did, had burned this knowledge into his beating heart since he was four years old so that’d he know not to make himself burden on decent folk) but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help. If he got strong enough and made it so he didn’t need to depend on others (wasn’t a burden _, wasn’t_ a _liability_ ), he could do something. Being Quirkless didn’t really matter in VR, not when everyone else couldn’t use theirs. Even if it was in little ways, scouting ahead so someone else didn’t have to, or acting as a distraction, maybe he could…

Which meant being strong. Because Tesla told him to save himself, because his mom needed him to live, because he needed be able to survive alone because he wasn’t going to make his safety someone else’s problem. Because maybe then he could survive long enough out there to make it home, could help them _win_ so he could go home at all.

Yes, he could turn around and stay in the Town of Beginnings, find an inn and curl up until it was all over. But then Tesla would probably find him once the situation was less urgent, get distracted because heroes cared about everyone, even those who didn’t need (deserve) it. And could he even survive in the Town of Beginnings? Would the safe zone remain, or be removed? Would everyone turn on each other? Would Kayaba make monsters assault the city to force everyone out?

Could he live with himself, knowing everyone else risked so much while he did nothing?

No, he had to leave. He had to leave now, because if he didn’t keep moving he wasn’t sure he’d ever move again. And there was a quest out there with a great reward. One that would help him survive, push forward, _live._ Maybe even help him help others clear the game.

Help him see his mother again.  
The decision was made, in a second, in an eternity, but it really wasn’t much of a decision at all.

He stepped outside the safe zone, into the wilds, and began to run.

~o0o~

There was a small village called Horunka, past the grasslands and in a forest. It had everything Midoku needed to make a good start. It had shops and an inn, all within a safe zone he could retreat to while grinding, and even if it was surrounded by more dangerous monsters than the grasslands near the Town of Beginnings, they were not unmanageable if he was careful. He had to be careful. He could level up there much faster there than grinding in the fields outside the Town of Beginnings, plus there was a quest with a reward that could carry him through the first few floors.

(His mother cried so much already. He had to get home)

Midoku was level 1 and had only the starting equipment. He could have stronger by now if he had spent the last few hours trying to level up rather than helping Tesla, but he couldn’t regret that decision, even if losing now had lethal consequences. Especially since losing now had lethal consequences. Ingenium could use those skills to help people, maybe even share them with his sidekicks. But at the moment he was weak as he could be, armed with only his knowledge and his skill because he had been lucky enough to have played the beta near obsessively for two months.

So Midoku kept running and running as the sun settled on the horizon, crossing fields bathed in gold. He ignored the Frenzied Boars that wouldn’t attack unless provoked and focused instead on the rhythmic pounding of his feet. It felt, despite everything, calming. Numbing. He pushed himself, making his chest tighten and his limbs shake, only stopping briefly to let his stamina recover when absolutely necessary.

His heart was pounding but it wasn’t just the exertion. He had left the town, the safe zone, and now anything could get him.

He finally arrived at the forest, the flat plains suddenly ending in a wall of trees. While the trunks were spaced out enough to easily walk straight through, Midoku knew that promised a monster attack or even an ambush. Instead, he skirted the edge of the treeline, paying no mind to the darkening sky, until he found an earthen path. The last of the sun was already falling below the horizon but he knew the way forward from here. He just needed to follow the well-trodden dirt road.

As fast as he could manage without alerting the monsters lurking in the trees, he made his way to the village. He stepped lightly but quickly. The trees loomed tall on all sides, branches tangled in a thick canopy that cast the brush in deep, dark shadow. He flinched at every noise, every rustle of leaves or faint howl in the distance, terrified that it was a prelude to an enemy bursting out of the inky black to attack him. Soon, night arrived and he had to walk so he didn’t trip in the dark, but the slower pace did nothing stop his heart from pounding in his chest.

Finally, Midoku spotted a warm glow ahead, beckoning him. With one final sprint, he had reached Horunka village.

It was a very small village with only ten buildings. Midoku couldn’t stop himself from noticeably relaxing the moment he was within the borders of the settlement, even if he still wondered if the sanctity of the safe zones would last. At least the Town of Beginnings had walls to keep out the enemy mobs but in Horunka, the only visible division between the settlement and the dangerous forest was how far the soft light of the gas lanterns reached.

There were no other players in Horunka village, just a few NPCs tagged as such by the coloured cursors floating above their heads. They glanced at him as he walked by, expressions briefly becoming more animated as they registered his presence. While the AI of SAO had always been impressive, there was also a certain stiffness to the NPCs, a sense of automation to everything they did. The individual actions and expressions had always been lifelike enough in theory, but they never melded or led into each other like real expressions should, nor did their reactions always line up with their body language. Not to mention the uniformness of their expressions, like they were all same person with different faces.

It made sense. They were following a script, their behaviour a result of stringing together preprogrammed responses to specific stimuli rather than generating unique, real-time reactions according to a variety of different factors. Even with what seemed to an update to the AI, Midoku could still see how they meandered along pre-set tracks as they followed their programmed routine, any deviation simple cause and effect rather than true choice. It was clear they weren’t people.

But now there were even more small details to try and sell the illusion that they were alive, only all it did was make them more unnerving. Their faces seemed even more realistic, even more _human_ than they were in the beta, yet there was still a lack of awareness in them that made his skin crawl. A person, even when lost in thought or not paying attention, still reacted to things like sudden movements or bright light or their own thoughts, while NPCs went through the motions like empty dolls with no regard to their surroundings unless confronted with something specific.

Which would normally be only mildly creepy, but right now, as the only player in a small hamlet surrounded by dark woods bursting with bloodthirsty monsters that could actually very much kill him now, it was like a horror movie. An eerie atmosphere, a growing tension, a slow build-up to the inevitable slaughter in the dark.

He almost regretted sprinting directly to Horunka after only a brief confrontation with Tesla and some crying (and his stomach twisted into knots thinking of Tesla’s expression, making him nauseous with guilt even though he knew it was the right thing to do). Had he waited a bit longer, maybe a day or so, there might have been a few more players in Horunka. But he hadn’t and that was all he was going to think about that.

Midoku headed towards one of the small shops, a solid plan in his mind. He stayed focused on that plan. Stopping would mean dwelling and thinking about things other than the immediate future which was something that typically did not end well for him, and that was before… everything. He pushed open the door and entered.

The inside of the shop was very much like how he remembered it last, however long ago that was. There was an old man with steel-grey hair, broad-shouldered and muscled, behind the wooden counter sharpening a metal dagger, the steady _schrik schrik schrik_ of the whetstone sending a rain of white sparks down with every swipe. The old man looked up when his door opened, noticing Midoku and reacting with a raised eyebrow. He did not speak, and would not until Midoku initiated an interaction.

 _Schrik schrik schrik_ went the whetstone. _Schrik schrik schrik._

Midoku walked forward, and making sure he was staring the AI uncomfortably in the eyes, spoke clearly and loudly. Certainly more confidently than if he were talking to an actual person. “May I please make a purchase?”

There were keywords and phrases that activated certain dialogue and interactions with NPCs. Usually it took trial and error to figure out, but it was pretty intuitive and trading was one of the simplest.

The old man chuckled, voice strong and craggy with age. “Take a look and see what interests you, traveller.”

He had said the exact same thing last time Midoku was here.

“I wish to sell.”

The old man nodded. “What do you want to sell?”

Midoku’s inventory opened and he swiftly selected and sold all the materials he had gained from killing monsters with Telsa. That felt like forever ago, in a different world, but in reality was probably less than an hour or two ago. He wasn’t planning on levelling up his crafting since he had been so abysmally bad at it every time he tried in the beta, so selling was the smart choice.

And right now, he had to be smart.

(“You have to be smart to be a hero,” Nezu once said in an interview. “When training heroes we do not just focus on their physical abilities, but on their minds. It’s very important. Victory is often a matter of strategy, of a split-second decision that can save a life or a counter to a villains plan. Some heroes can even get by on smarts alone!”

And while Nezu was clearly referring to himself and his Quirk, to superhuman intelligence rather than what a Quirkless boy could ever achieve, for a moment Izuku had wondered. Had seriously considered. But no one had ever called him smart except for his mother even though his grades were second only to Kacchan, had not cooed and called him a clever boy since he was four years old in kindergarten, counting his numbers for his kind-faced teacher, because he was empty and stupid and useless and _worthless._ He dreamed, still, but never planned, never seriously thought about _how_ he’d be a hero.

But right now, he had to be smart)

Using his newly gained Col, he bought a brown leather half-coat. He tapped on the auto-equip button after he purchased it and it materialized over his current clothes, a perfect fit of course. The thicker leather felt far more reassuring than the thin linen of his starting clothes and he found himself clutching the heavier material and pulling it tighter.

When he turned to look at himself in the full-length mirror—an addition most shops had since there was no third-person perspective to help players see how gear looked—he stopped short.

Midoku had seen a glimpse of his appearance back in the Town of Beginnings, glancing at the hand mirror just long enough to see that his avatar had been transformed just like everyone else. But having it shoved in his face made him freeze.

A small, scrawny boy, pale-faced and wide-eyed, his expression caught somewhere between horror and numb. A face he instantly recognized as his own, suddenly found in a place where before only a familiar stranger had stood, a collision of the virtual and the real. It was Izuku staring back, not Midoku, Izuku who was wearing the western-styled medieval clothes and sturdy leather to help stop swords and claws and other vicious things from tearing his digital organs out. Izuku who had a sword sheathed on his back. Izuku who was Midoku who was Izuku, trapped in a world of life or death.

It was real.

In the beta, Midoku’s avatar had dressed in shining golden armour that dazzled the eye, had been brilliant and bright and _radiant_. He couldn’t imagine wearing that now. Not when the fact that this was _him_ , not some character he was playing and–

Nope, that was enough. He was not going to think about it. He swallowed it all down and pretended like there wouldn’t be a point where he painfully threw it all back up.

Midoku skipped buying a stronger sword in favour of spending his remaining Col on a torch and healing potions, the potions which he bound to one of his two available pockets. The Bronze Sword lost durability too fast to be useful and he’d be getting an even better sword soon anyway. Instead, he headed toward one of the private houses and after a quick knock (habit, not a requirement because usually the door was either locked or it wasn’t and the NPCs rarely cared either way) opened the door and slipped in.

A woman, middle-aged with grey-streaked hair, was stirring a bubbling pot over a fire. It had a strong minty smell that filled the room, steam turning the air hot and damp as condensation dripped down the walls. She turned to Midoku, and briefly focusing on the cursor above her head, he saw her name and title. Anita, Village Woman.

She turned her attention away from the pot to face Midoku. “Good evening, journeying swordsman. You must be tired. I do wish to offer you some food, but I do not have any at the moment. All I can give is a single cup of water.”

“That’s fine,” Midoku replied automatically, sitting at the small table and watching as Anita smiled wanly, leaving the pot to boil.

The NPC poured clear water into an old wooden cup before passing it to Midoku. Midoku took a moment, running his thumb over the bumps and imperfections of the carved cup, all purposeful of course, before taking a sip. It was… nice. Cool and clear and while it still didn’t feel properly wet because water never felt right in SAO and seemed to disappear before it travelled far down his throat, it was still refreshing. Even a little soothing.

It only took a few moments before Midoku heard what was unmistakably a child coughing from a locked room that no player was allowed to enter, not even with the Lockpicking Skill. It was a little uncomfortable, how realistic the sound was, wet and hacking like the girl (for it was a girl, Midoku remembered that much from the beta) was struggling hard for every wheezing breath. Anita’s shoulder’s slumped in apparent despair and the newer, more realistic animations made her distress all the more upsetting. She turned back towards to pot and began stirring with renewed vigour.

A couple seconds more and golden question mark lit up above her head, signalling the quest’s beginning.

“Is something wrong?” Midoku asked, one of many stock phrases that could activate a quest.

Anita turned back to Midoku, her face a mixture of resignation and sorrow. “Yes, journeying swordsman. My daughter is ill. A sickness we have not been able to cure with any conventional medicine. We fear she will not survive…”

And with that, Anita explained the backstory, the quest, and the reward. Her daughter was deathly ill and all the medicine they had tried, even that purchased from the market, was ineffectual. There was a cure for her illness, however it was far too dangerous to retrieve for any of the village people. One of the many creatures in the forest, a carnivorous and frightfully predatory plant found further west, had ovules that could be used to create a treatment for the illness. Unfortunately, on top of being very dangerous, it was rare to find a blooming plant and only they could drop the ovules. If Midoku—or any player who took up the quest—were to retrieve an ovule, she would reward them with a longsword passed down her family.

Midoku listened patiently because there was no way to skip the dialogue and the quest wouldn’t start unless it was heard in its entirety, not to mention there was no telling if anything new had been added to this or any other quest since the beta. Anita got teary-eyed half-way through and that, coupled with the increasingly pained coughs from the other room, helped create the powerful illusion of an actual family in need of help. It made Midoku’s heart ache a little.

(Midoku had always liked quests like these. Sure, they weren’t real people, but even pretending to save someone was a good feeling)

Finally, Anita finished her exposition and a little alert appearing in the corner of his vision told him that his quest log—a leather-bound book that could appear with a tap of the menu—had updated. Midoku stood up and gave a polite bow which the NPC returned without changing expressions, an automatic response to certain gestures.

“I’ll be back soon,” Midoku promised, completely unnecessary but a habit born from role-playing in the beta.

As he opened the door and stepped out, he paused in the doorway and looked back. Anita had returned to her pot of medicine and the coughing had quieted somewhat, leaving a woman alone, fretting and worrying over her child. It reminded Midoku so strongly of his mother he barely stopped himself from collapsing then and there.

(His mother who cried and worried and cried and–)

No. He turned away, shoving the thought from his mind. If he dwelled he would spiral and Midoku knew he was no good when that happened. Now was time for action, because if he stopped, he feared he would never get up again.

He needed to be smart, yes, but he couldn’t let himself think. Not if he wanted to keep standing.  
Still he wondered, in the back of his mind, how the people in the real world had reacted. How would his classmates react when the Quirkless doll didn’t show up for school? Would any of them remember him mentioning Sword Art Online to Kacchan when the news hit and make the connection? Would they care? Speaking of, how would Kacchan react with his favourite target gone? Midoku hoped he wouldn’t take his frustration out on the other kids.

Midoku knew he would.

And with that he left the warm glow of the gas lanterns behind, and entered the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I had to buy the SAO light novels for this. Like, pay actual money (at least when I couldn’t find them for free online). I never read them before this. They're actually kinda good sometimes.
> 
> Anyways, I hope this didn’t drag on too long or anything. I started writing and kept writing and then I realized, hey, not much has actually happened but… deleting hours of work is painful. So painful.
> 
> Also I welcome constructive criticism so long as it is, y'know, constructive! And please comment even if it's just a heart emoji or something, it really helps me keep writing!


	7. The First Night pt 2: A Mysterious Stranger

Last Chapter: After some consideration, Midoku decided on a course of action. If he’s not only going to survive, but also not be a burden on others and play his part in helping them all escape this game, he can’t just stay in the safe zones. He has to leave. He heads for Horunka, a small village he scouted during the beta, and accepts a quest from the NPC Anita.

~o0o~

There was no sky in SAO. Well, there was. Aincrad was floating in it. But due to the design of Aincrad, there was no sky directly overhead, and unless one leaned over the side of Aincrad, the sun and moon were only visible within several hours of dawn and dusk.

This did not take away from the beauty of the game. Midoku could remember a player in the beta test, a stunning young woman who seemed very passionate about the visual choices of SAO, breathlessly explaining the genius of the environment design in relation to lighting, tone, and immersion to an enthralled young man who did not look up at her face the entire time.

(And it wasn’t eavesdropping even if Midoku wasn’t technically part of the conversation. She had been so loud he couldn’t be blamed for overhearing).

According to her, in order to stop Aincrad from feeling claustrophobic, the design team and presumably Kayaba had used lighting effects, weather, and distance to keep the floors feeling open. Since the floors were typically so far apart (though they were actually quite thin relative to the size of Aincrad of course, but Aincrad was absolutely ginormous), the open sides that revealed the sky were easily visible from any unobstructed location, and the bottom of the next floor above them was almost… faded. Like how mountains gained a foggy, blueish hue when far enough away, only the effect in SAO tended to take on different colours depending on the tone of the sky, softening the division between sky and the bottom of the next floor. With the addition of weather such as clouds, as well as the sheer scale of Aincrad, it made the functional roof over their heads nearly unnoticeable, or at least unintrusive.

This also helped with what would have otherwise been immersion breaking lighting issues. Since Aincrad would be quite gloomy if the floor above was allowed to cast a shadow, the fact that there was the illusion of an open sky allowed for more ambient lighting during the day; an apparent source of sunlight even if the actual sun was blocked from view, selling the idea of an open-aired environment. And at night, the entire floor did not have to become pitch black either, except where objects closer to the ground blocked the sparse light.

The woman had then gone on to speculate that the distance between floors might change for different effects, integrating them into environment design. Not much variation had been seen in the first ten floors, all fascinating and diverse but ultimately similar in regard to the distance separating the floors, but she had been eager to see more.

She was probably regretting that wish now.

Which was a long way to say that the forest Midoku was walking through was not pitch black. There was a source of light, however faint, making its way through the thick canopy of branches above him. Not enough to see much and certainly still too dangerous to fight in, but Midoku had come prepared.

First, he had a torch in his off hand. Unlit, but it would only take a moment to light and he didn’t want to alert any sighted enemies. Second, he had filled his second Skill slot with Search. Search was a Skill that would allow him to see the cursors of mobs farther away as well as identify other important objects, which would be helpful for both hunting and avoiding unwanted encounters. As it levelled it would only grow more useful.

He kept walking through the forest, stepping as lightly as possible. Even without the Hide Skill, a player could do a lot to stay unnoticed. He kept going until he finally found what he was looking for.

He spotted the red cursor, a slightly more intense shade that signalled a mob of a higher level than him, but not unbeatable. If he had no hope of victory, it would be a deep crimson. It also had a yellow outline which indicated that it was a mob necessary for a quest. When he focused on it, a health bar and label appeared. A Little Nepenthes, one of the mobs native to the Horunka Forest and exactly the one he was looking for. This one was level 3.

(Calm down. Hold it together. He’s done this before. He couldn’t afford to– )

First, he checked around for any other mobs. Seeing no other cursors and reasonably confident that his Search radius extended far enough that he wouldn’t be drawing any attention, he lit his torch. The flame burst into being, illuminating his surroundings far more intensely than a single torch should. Or perhaps he underestimated how bright fire was. The flickering firelight upon the surrounding trees cast deep, twisting shadows.

(“You have to always be aware of your surroundings,” Snipe was once quoted. “Enemies can come from anywhere. Even the environment can be a hazard. You cannot ever let down your guard,” and Midoku, blood fizzing in his veins and each breath coming quick and shallow, had never known how true that statement was until now)

Eyes still on the red cursor, Midoku slowly moved forward. Little Nepenthes were blind so he didn’t need to worry about his torch alerting it, but that also meant that he couldn’t surprise it, not when it would notice everything moving within certain distance. Registering sound maybe, or vibrations or even heat. They were unique to the first floor so he had never bothered to investigate and normally he would just assume normal gaming agro mechanics, but SAO was absurdly complex and it didn’t simply tell the AI where players were, so there had to be some method to how even blind mobs spotted players. Once he was just outside of a conservative estimate of the Little Nepenthes’s range, the cursor placing it just beyond a thick tree, he drew his sword and inhaled deeply, trying to still his shaking limbs.

(It reminded him of a similar situation, forever ago. Of instinctive fear shooting through him even though he knew this was all fake, of panic and the way his body shuddered and HP dropped to zero and how this time, he would not wake up moments later, alive and well)

~~Of Kacchan, of peers, of each and every classmate that merely needed to look at him funny to send a jolt of fear rushing through him.~~

Little Nepenthes (Nepentheses? Nepenthesi? Nepenthes) were ugly things. Large carnivorous plants that somehow walked upright on several thick wriggling roots with two twisting vines emerging from their sides like long whips, each tipped with a pointed leaf that was frail but sharp. What could be called the main “stalk” or body was thick and fleshy, like a pitcher plant, and on average three times wider than Midoku. Where the solid stalk ended and the hollow cauldron of digestive juices began was hard to determine. Where the opening of a standard pitcher plant would normally be was instead a giant mouth large enough to swallow a man whole, cartoonish cherry red lips pulled back to expose giant, square, disturbingly human teeth. Thick, foul-smelling liquid dripped from the facsimile of a mouth, capable of eroding equipment durability.

The Little Nepenthes Midoku now encountered was no different. Walking past the thick-trunked tree, Midoku found the large bulky plant gnashing its teeth and drooling not far away. Midoku gripped his sword tighter and before his courage could falter, he charged.

This Little Nepenthes did not have a flower so it wouldn’t drop the ovule needed for the quest. However, with every Little Nepenthes killed the chance of encountering a Flowering Little Nepenthes increased. So he would kill it and move on to the next, however many times he needed to.

It also increased the chance of running into a Little Nepenthes with a fruit which would be… bad.

Midoku landed the first hit with a horizontal slash, refraining from Sword Skills for the moment. His sword passed through the rubbery flesh with minimal resistance, a thick red line appearing across its middle in lieu of gore to represent the damage dealt. The Little Nepenthes shrieked, corrosive liquid spraying as Midoku hopped backwards, careful to keep a firm grip on the torch in his left hand. The Little Nepenthes may not need light but Midoku certainly did.

Little Nepenthes were primarily offensive with weak defence. A few strong hits to the vulnerable spot where the roots met the stalk and it would be down, even with Midoku’s weak sword and low level. All he had to do was avoid the spat liquid and the stabbing vines.

(Easier said than done)

He dodged another attack, this time the vines lashing out with deadly intent. His heart was racing and his entire body was jittery with nerves in a way he had never experience in VR combat, even when he first stumbled through the beta with unsteady legs and no idea what to do. He could die. A single mistake could spell his end. And with every quick breath, he was reminded each could oh so easily be his last.

There was a sort of clarity that came with that knowledge as well. Survival took precedence and so long as it did, everything else could be put aside where it couldn’t hurt him, observed from some deep place in his own mind. The immediate terror distanced the larger horror of the situation, paralyzing fear turned to adrenaline and action and focus as desperation forced his limbs to keep moving.

And one of the things he loved about SAO was that he could fight back.

The Little Nepenthes tottered closer, emitting a noise somewhere between a squeal and a screech. Midoku let it, allowed it to lurch forward as its vines lashed out again to stab him or at least trap him so he could be shoved into its gaping maw, but Midoku stepped to the side and lunged. The Little Nepenthes couldn’t stop its attack in time to pull away or counter, Midoku’s sword instead piercing right into its weak spot, the point where the pitcher portion of the body met the lower stalk and roots.

The HP dropped, more than before. The Little Nepenthes _screamed_.

The Little Nepenthes’s mouth then closed and its body seemed to swell up like a particularly indignant bullfrog, Midoku ripping his sword from the mob’s body and preparing to dodge. The liquid, when properly spat, could go as far as fifteen feet. There was no chance to hide behind a tree, he couldn’t retreat out of range in time. Getting hit was also an almost certain death loss because it destroyed equipment and slowed down players.

Midoku got hit with it once, in the beta, and then the Little Nepenthes ate him. He thankfully died before it entered the eaten alive body-horror territory, but the experience had certainly validated the game’s C rating. He did not intend to get caught again.

(He did not intend to die)

He threw himself to the side, his timing two parts skill and one part luck. The gooey, milky-green fluid missed, splashing on the ground behind him, tingling where a few drops hit the bare skin of his face. Gross. Before the Little Nepenthes could continue, Midoku darted forward and jabbed his sword into the Little Nepenthes’s weak spot once again, driving it deep. The mob shrieked in a way a plant should not be able to, recoiling and staggering back on squirming roots, dragging Midoku along with it. The health decreased further, but still in the green.

This was familiar. There was a certain rhythm to prologued combat, a push and pull he knew well. Two months spent honing skills for the pure fun of it and now he was relying on them to survive. He had more than most. A better chance. He’d get home. And others would too.

~~They had to.~~

But, like all things, it wasn’t certain.

The Little Nepenthes caught him by surprise, vine appearing out of nowhere (in actuality, he simply was checking the right for an attack when it came in from the left) and slamming hard into his side, knocking the wind out of him. Luckily not the pointy leaf part, but the thin vines alone were surprisingly strong and it threw him aside like yesterdays trash.

Leaving his sword behind, still stuck in the flesh of the monster.

No. Nononononono–

Midoku rolled to his feet, the sharpened tip of a vine just narrowly missing his head and instead plunging in the ground until it hit the immortal object under a thin layer of soil. A quick recovery was an understated skill that wasn’t a Skill, one gained through experience and Midoku knew if he didn’t have it he could have died and–

It was okay. In the beta, being disarmed wasn’t the end and it wouldn’t be here either. His torch was still lit, lying in the grass a few meters away where it had flown after his grip loosened so he wasn’t completely blind, and the Little Nepenthes didn’t seem interested in pulling out the sword which was causing steady damage just by being lodged in its body.

Not much damage, but still significant, what with the sharp blade stabbed deep in its weak point.

Okay, delay, survive. The Little Nepenthes would probably not remove the sword until Midoku was dead or out of range because it was stupid with very basic AI, so if even if he didn’t manage to retrieve his sword beforehand, he could still outlast the thing. Easy enough. Though he’d prefer to end it quick so he could finally breath properly.

Midoku once again narrowly dodged the whip-like vines. Did they get faster since the beta? Or was he just out of practice? He couldn’t tell. He hoped the latter. SAO didn’t need to be more difficult.

“SHUUUUUU!” The thing wailed, making Midoku cringe. The Little Nepenthes was not happy, and its health was only just entering the yellow.

It swelled up and spewed more liquid, forcing Midoku to sprint to the right. There was a subtle tell that Little Nepenthes had, the vines remained active when spitting for shorter durations but went limp when preparing for a prologued, if narrower, spray. So Midoku kept sprinting as the pressurized stream chased his heels, ducking down to grab the torch as he passed it.

The moment the spray stopped, he turned to face the Little Nepenthes once again. It had a brief cool down after performing prolonged spray, merely a second or two (certainly not long enough for the slowing effect to wear off if an unfortunate player were to be caught in it) but enough to take advantage of. He lunged and grabbed the hilt of his sword, ripping it from the Little Nepenthes’s body with a grunt.

Health in the yellow, almost red. It was time to finish it.

Midoku fell into the initial position, foot forward and sword arm back as a tingling crawled through his body. His blade began to glow a bright mint green. The Little Nepenthes started to react, vines finally coming back to life, but by then it was far too late. Midoku attacked, system subtly guiding his body without taking full control but instead refining a simple slash into something deadly. It connected and the Little Nepenthes was cleanly bisected, its health plummeted past the red into nothing.

It shattered, bright polygons of light drifting into nothing and tickling his face where they happened to brush against him. The battle over, Midoku exhaled loudly, falling back to lie heaving on the forest floor.

He did it. He did it. He won.

~~He barely felt anything at all.~~

A few items—a Little Nepenthes Vine, a Little Nepenthes Tooth, and several globs of Little Nepenthes Acid that could be bottled if he had a container with him—rested on the forest floor beside him. No ovule of course, but he vaguely registered a small screen in front of him that listed exp and Col gained, more exp than a simple Frenzied Boar could ever give, the numbers swimming in his head as he made absent-minded calculations. At this rate, he could level up with a few fights, a few more risks.

He couldn’t stay there, however nice it felt to simple lie in the forest with the cool grass on his back and torch pleasantly heating up his left side. Before the relief of success wore off he had to get moving, or else the horror of the situation would set in.

So he hauled himself to his feet and extinguished his torch, plunging his surroundings into darkness once again. He gathered his spoils and set off to find more Little Nepenthes. To get stronger. To survive.

To see his mother again.

~o0o~

Twenty minutes later, Midoku had killed fifteen Little Nepenthes and only had a single anxiety attack along the way, spurred by a terrifyingly close call with Little Nepenthes number six. After dry retching for a little (apparently SAO could not simulate actual vomit, but it was certainly uncomfortable) and downing a health potion that tasted like mint toothpaste, he had thrown himself back into hunting before his panic escalated into something truly debilitating.

Midoku had not encountered a Flowering Little Nepenthes yet, which was unfortunate, or a Little Nepenthes with fruit, which was fortunate. His luck remained unremarkable in every way, as it usually was until it turned terrible.

(Being unlucky had never felt so terrifying before)

He had also levelled up at Nepenthes number eleven, granting four stat points which he invested equally into Stamina and Agility. Since he wasn’t going to be able to party up with others, something that would allow slower, Strength-based builds or long rests between attacks, he would have to focus on being quicker and minimizing how often he had to catch his breath. It also meant he had to optimize his Skills for self-sufficiency in the field, reducing his ability to explore and experiment.

In short, he thought dryly, a broken Agility build.

Okay, not really. Agility-focused builds were not broken in SAO or anything, even if they were rather solid. There was too much variety for one playstyle to dominate, and in groups, as MMOs were meant to be played, there was a need for all types of roles. But solo players didn’t have the support of a party so they couldn’t afford to tank damage or hit slow-and-heavy. They had to a hit hard, hit fast, and avoid getting hit, so they had to focus Stamina and Agility. It was the most optimal build for going solo, if a bit boring.

But that also meant it was considered a bit… cheap. Considering the situation, Midoku did not mind being cheap. He had never been against fighting dirty anyway.

~~Hero Notes For The Future no. 7. Kacchan. Quirk: Explosion. Weaknesses: Water. Cold. A final word, violently erased. Wrists.~~

Midoku sighed and after glancing around for nearby enemies (a few red markers, but all small and distant), he flopped down on the ground against a tree. Whatever long-term stamina management in SAO had was demanding he sit down for a little, and the temporary energy boost from levelling up having long run out

He leaned back with his eyes close, back of his head pressed up against the tree’s rough bark. The sheathed sword dug into his back. Maybe he should head back and sleep at the inn? Resting helped, but sleep was possible in SAO and Midoku was beginning to suspect necessary if log-out was ~~impossible~~ temporarily not an option. It was a mental need as much as a physical need. Plus he was actually feeling a little hungry, which was new. He hoped it was simulated hunger that eating in SAO could fix, and not some sort of bleed-over from the real world.

“U-um, hello?”

Midoku started, hand flying to his sword hilt and eyes snapping open as he tried to jump to his feet but only end up tripping over himself and face-planting on the grass.

There was a startled laugh. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean–” More laughing, caught between a giggle and a snicker. As Midoku began to get to his feet, he noticed an outstretched hand, palm open and wearing the same fingerless gloves that he did.

Midoku followed the extended arm up to a skinny body and a face shining with mirth. It was a boy, another player according to the both cursor above his head and the vibrant life in his expression. He looked down at Midoku with a small grin, lips still twitching and bright brown eyes squinting slightly with amusement. His ears were a tad large—rather cute, Midoku noted, somewhat flustered—and his brown hair looked very soft.

“H-hey, uh, you okay there?”

Oh. Oh no. How long had Midoku been staring studying him? He was being weird again, and anxiety stabbed at his guts.

“I-I’m fine,” Midoku said a little hurriedly in an effort to banish any perceived awkwardness. He grabbed the other boy’s offered hand (it felt warm) and let himself be hauled to his feet, ignoring the blush on his face.

The boy was only a little taller than Midoku, and he wore the leather armour that could be purchased at Horunka. The starting Small Sword hung at his belt and a lit torch was in his left hand. When Midoku looked back up to his face, the boy’s features both thin and sharp, for a brief moment their eyes met. Bright, intense, and they both immediately looked away awkwardly. Midoku realized he was still holding the boy’s hand and dropped it like it was on fire.

The boy cleared his throat and brought his hand up to his eyes, then realized what he was doing and self-consciously dropped his hand. Midoku guessed he wore glasses or some similar eyewear in the real world that created that habit.

“S-so, it’s Midoku, right?”

“Yeah! And y-your username is… Coper,” Midoku stammered, glancing up at the boy’s nametag.

“Y-yeah.” Coper smiled a bit wider and Midoku’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t think anyone would be out here already.”

Wait. The armour, that he kept the Small Sword rather than buying one from Horunka, that he knew where Horunka was in the first place–

“You’re a beta-tester!” Midoku blurted out.

Coper’s expression turned wry. “A bit obvious, huh? You are too. Doing the Medicine of the Forest quest.”

It was a statement more than a question but Midoku nodded anyway. “Y-yeah. Are you?”

“Yep.”

Midoku didn’t need the answer though. Everything from the way Coper stood to the absentminded way he fiddled with the sword at his belt characterized him as someone who wore his VR avatar like a second-skin, someone who had played until he got used to carrying a weapon and watching his back.

“It is an important quest if you’re going to use one-handed swords,” Midoku added after a moment to fill the silence, eager to ward off any awkwardness. “Even though the Anneal Blade looks unimpressive, it can carry a player to the Third Floor labyrinth. The quest is relatively easy, it can be upgraded with minimal risk or materials, and it has solid stats.”

“Exactly!” Coper agreed, apparently not the least bit bothered by Midoku’s mindless rambling. “I planned to head here after logging on but I got distracted.”

“Same,” Midoku laughed somewhat hysterically, nerves sparking with anxiety. What the hell was he even doing?

He felt a shiver run up his spine and he suddenly realized Coper wasn’t smiling anymore. Actually, he was staring intensely, eyes gleaming hungrily in the dark. Midoku stiffened.

“Do you want to team up?”

“Huh?”

Coper shrugged, the edge leaving his gaze like it was never there. “We have a common goal and it’d be safer working together. We’d have to find two Flowering Little Nephenthes instead of one, but the chances go up after killing a lot of them. Seems more efficient and you looked skilled enough to not slow me down.”

An enthusiastic, perhaps a little desperate, _yes_ was on his tongue before Midoku stopped short, metaphorically choking on the word. He had just left Tesla, _alone_ , for a very good reason. Midoku might be able to survive on his own but he sure as hell couldn’t protect anyone else.

~~Kacchan shoving him down, explosions ringing in his ears and burning his skin until he couldn’t move, until he couldn’t get up and place himself between Kacchan and his target, his own inability tasting like the blood in his mouth.~~

“I-I’m not sure,” Midoku said, his voice strangled by memories that were still safer than thinking too long about his current circumstance.

Coper frowned. “Hey, I get it. You’ve gotta look out for number one–”

“It’s not like that!”

~~Teachers frowning, then scowling, then glaring. Don’t be a burden, they said, don’t ask for help you don’t deserve, and they say this until he stops asking, until he learns not to be selfish.~~

Coper crossed his arms.

“I want to team up,” Midoku defended. “It’s just I’d probably get in the way.”

Coper snorted. “Like you could.”

~~His mom is crying again. She cries a lot now, ever since the visit to the doctor one-two-ten years ago, and when she doesn’t she still shakes and shudders and fusses over every little thing. It is his fault.~~

“I would,” Midoku insisted. “I do it all the time.”

Which was no big deal when the consequences were just losing a game but now?

~~He wanted to go with Coper. He didn’t want to be alone.~~

He _couldn’t_.

“Maybe any other time,” Coper relented. “But right now you’re in the top five percent with me. I don’t party with people who would drag me down and we have to hurry before other players catchup.”

“I–”

“Come on! I’ll be safer with someone watching my back!”

Midoku felt himself wavering. Coper was making sense and it had been hard enough to leave Tesla behind. And Coper wasn’t pro-hero Ingenium, was he? He was like Midoku, another player with no responsibilities to neglect.

~~Did he leave Tesla for nothing?~~

“Are you sure?” he finally asked.

Coper grinned, teeth gleaming in the torchlight. “Positive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a discord for my fics! Feel free to join anytime!  
> https://discord.gg/QwHqDeR


	8. The First Night pt 3: The Cruelty of Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To celebrate the 100 kudos mark (seriously guys, thank you!) here’s a chapter!

Last Chapter: Midoku left Horunka and delved deep into the surrounding forests, seeking out the elusive Flowering Little Nepenthes that will drop the quest item he needs, as well as grinding for exp and Col. While doing so, he met another player and fellow beta-tester named Coper who asked if they could stick together, both for safety and efficiency. Hesitant but still willing, Midoku agrees.

~o0o~

Midoku hadn’t noticed how stressful hunting alone had been until Coper was there to take the edge off. Hadn’t realized how the heavy silence of the forest woven in with quiet rustling and the occasional distant screech of a mob made his entire body tense and his skin prickle, until idle conversation took its place.

It would be a lie to pretend he wasn’t grateful for the distraction of another person. If he tried, he could even pretend he was still in the beta where nothing mattered except for having fun, ~~that over two hundred people weren’t already dead, and the rest could possibly follow~~. But then he would be reminded by a sudden sound sending an intense jolt of panic through his body, or the way Coper’s confident steps were intermingled with nervous back-glances and flinches. They were both terrified and probably in some sort of shock, only able to keep going because the motions of grinding and levelling up were familiar enough to fall back upon.

(Still, it was always in the back of his mind that he was being hunted as much as he was hunting. And for the first time, that actually mattered)

However, while he and Coper were potential prey to the various hostile creatures of the forest, they were also predators. They stalked through the forest, slaying Little Nepenthes after Little Nepenthes with relative ease. Midoku had forgotten just how _easy_ having an ally along made dealing with small fry like this ~~and Tesla didn’t count, their time spent learning over grinding.~~ Boss fights took several parties to win, most dungeons took at least a party, but simple hunting just needed a good partner.

(It was honestly a bit of a power trip, effortlessly defeating enemy after enemy, even weak as they were. It reminded him of the feeling that sucked him into SAO in the first place, the sense of liberation, the illusion of strength he could never have in the real world and quickly became addicted to)

And Coper was _good_. More cautious than Midoku, certainly, but good. Rather than going on the offensive he tended to wait for the enemy to make a misstep before attacking, taking advantage of the opening for a single devastating blow then retreating. Paired with Midoku drawing aggro with his more aggressive playstyle—which was really a way of coping with the terror thrumming through his veins, trying to drown it in adrenaline and the immediate desperation of combat as well as his near-frantic determination to make sure Coper didn’t regret teaming up with him—they made a solid team.

Not to mention that they were both experienced and that made quite the difference. Coper knew his sword’s reach like it was an extension of him, could react on instinct to a Little Nepenthes’ admittedly blatant tells without hesitation. He naturally covered Midoku’s openings just as Midoku defended his. They were hardly perfectly in-synch—they barely knew each other—but they were far better off than many others would be.

And Coper did not hesitate to mention that.

“Really, everyone else is going to be struggling to catch up with us,” Coper mused as he picked up several dropped items to put in his inventory. SAO operated on a free-for-all looting system and excluding items that only dropped after meeting specific requirements like making the finishing blow or causing most damage, which were placed directly in the inventory, most drops simply appeared on the floor. “We have experience and a head start while everyone else is panicking. By the time they get their collective shit together, we’ll be well on our way to the labyrinth.”

Midoku… did not know how to deal with Coper’s attitude. He wasn’t loud or overtly cruel ~~like Kacchan could be, like his classmates~~ but some part of Midoku was still… nervous.

(Then again, Midoku was always nervous. It was probably nothing ~~even though he knows to listen to his instincts~~ )

Midoku frowned. “I guess…”

“It’s just survival of the fittest,” Coper continued, almost like he was trying to convince himself. “I– We’ve gotta keep ourselves alive.”

Midoku’s stomach twisted.

It wasn’t Coper’s fault, of course. Coper seemed very nice! He complimented Midoku’s abilities and watched his back, even if he was a bit dismissive towards other people, but that wasn’t so bad because good people were sometimes a little mean (a lot mean) and it was a very stressful situation after all. Midoku should be more understanding of the pressures Coper was under, and it wasn’t like Kacchan wasn’t an even bigger jerk most of the time and Kacchan was going to be a hero.

But sometimes Coper would say something that made Midoku bite his tongue, made him cringe as something like anger bubbled in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t understand how Coper could be so… casual about the danger everyone else was in.

(And made Midoku wonder if his decision to leave the Town of Beginnings was truly right. Was it actually necessity that made him run? Or selfish fear? Did he leave Tesla, all those people behind, ~~to die~~ for nothing?)

“Really, you were smart to leave all those noobs behind,” Coper would say.

“Dead weight,” Coper would say.

“This game isn’t a place for wusses,” Coper would say.

And Midoku, inured to this sort of talk from countless online games and forums ~~and Kacchan and classmates and teachers and being held down while someone called him useless and worthless and burned that knowledge into him with the deafening crack of a chemical reaction~~ knew better than to risk waste energy retorting even if it tasted more bitter swallow than say, but sometimes he couldn’t help but… mumble.

“That’s not why I left, Coper” he would mutter.

“They’re people too, Coper,” he would whisper.

“No one deserves this, Coper,” he would finally snap.

And Coper would look at him, bravado gone and something fragile in his eyes, a thin thread pulled taunt until it was near to breaking and Midoku would fall silent, unease collecting in his lungs like cold tar.

(If Midoku looked in a mirror, would he see something similar?)

“It’s not a matter of deserve. It’s a matter of strength. And I’m strong here,” Coper said firmly, like he needed to believe it, clung to it with bloody fingers and broken nails, and for a brief moment Coper reminded Midoku a little of Kacchan ~~and a little of himself~~. The familiarity hurt as much as it made him want to hold on to this stranger.

(Except Kacchan spoke with bone-deep certainty, and power, and arrogance; a blessed child with a glorious destiny he merely needed to reach out and grasp while Izuku was left behind to stare at his back with bitter awe. Coper’s words were brittle with fear and doubt and desperation and his hands trembled as he clung to his sword, standing beside Midoku in the dark and the fear, riddled with doubt)

~~And Kacchan was pain and noise and ears ringing and tears dripping, but he was also strength and confidence and as much as he was glad Kacchan was safe in the real world because no one deserved this, Midoku also selfishly wished for the conflicting fear/certainty/confidence his presence brought because he knew Kacchan was going to be a hero and a hero was so much stronger than a nothing.~~

But Coper seemed nice and Midoku knew he had a habit of thinking the worst of people ~~they tell him Kacchan did nothing wrong, and he almost believes it until Kacchan hurts someone else~~ so he kept it down even though it felt like his chest was growing tighter and tighter and his thoughts increasingly more fragmented by the second.

“I’m going to have to keep an eye on you,” Coper teased after they had taken down another pair of Little Nepenthes. “You’re going to be competition.”

Midoku blushed and stammered, heartbeat jackhammering against his ribs with fear, with embarrassment, with the thrill of acknowledgement he’s worried he doesn’t deserve. And he didn’t noticed that, even as he smiled, Coper’s eyes were cold.

(Like Kacchan’s eyes, almost, but Kacchan’s eyes were dismissive as well, an oppressive force like he was far above poor little Izuku and his foolish dreams even as he shoved him back to earth. Coper’s, however, were calculating, were wary, were locked onto Midoku like he was something important. Something dangerous)

(An equal. A threat)

~o0o~

Midoku came to a startling and very inconvenient realization in the middle of a fight. He was going to die.

Oh, perhaps not this exact second. Probably. But soon enough.

Midoku had already entertained the thought and smothered it with stubborn determination—so long as he kept moving, he wouldn’t have time to dwell, after all. And as frightening as it was, death was more of a distant, abstract concept to him. But for some reason the weight of his impending doom—because there was no way he was getting out of this alive—hit him while he was trying to stab a giant screeching plant monster.

He froze.

~~He wanted to go home, he wanted his mom, _he didn’t want to die_.~~

It was Coper who saved him, interrupting the Little Nepenthes’ attack with a strike of his own.

“What the hell Midoku!” Coper yelled, failing to deflect a vine with his sword and initiating a frantic tug-of-war with the floral abomination.

Snapped out of his momentary daze, Midouku activated a Sword Skill and cut the vine wrapped around Copper’s sword. “S-sorry,” he stammered weakly, shoving the realization aside the best he could. Coper scoffed, swinging his newly-freed weapon and glaring at the Little Nepenthes.

“Just don’t do it again.”

~~He was going to die.~~

“I won’t.”

~~But _he was going to die._~~

Midoku couldn’t ignore it for long, he knew, even as he tried to shove it back down. He was going to ~~die~~ (die) die, and it was going to be his own fault, for being arrogant, for being _reckless_ , for running out into a forest with a low-level and low-visibility like a single mistake couldn’t _kill_ him and what the hell was he doing out here?! What sort of ~~deku~~ idiot ran off on their own! Him, apparently.

He bit his lower lip hard, hard enough that his teeth sunk through the simulated flesh and took off a sliver of HP. It still wasn’t enough to stop the tears blurring his vision, even if it silenced any sobs.

This wasn’t a game anymore (except it still sorta was), but he was making decisions like a wrong one couldn’t get him killed. Habit kept him moving, refusing to properly acknowledge the true danger he was in kept him from breaking down, but it was going to get him killed at this rate.

And, glancing at the back of Coper’s head, he knew he wasn’t the only one.

(Coper, who was just as reckless. Coper, who called others _dead weight_ )

~~He left all those people behind, what was he thinking?!~~

(Midoku could not have helped, he wasn’t strong enough, he would have just been a burden and a problem and–)

Coper sighed as the Little Nepenthes shattered into a million brilliant fractals, leaving behind a few items. “A Flowering Nepenthes should’ve spawned by now.”

“I– uh, maybe the spawn rate was changed from the beta,” Midoku suggested shakily as he frantically wiped his eyes so that Coper didn’t see, feeling a crawling cold at the thought of his knowledge from the beta being out-of-date.

Coper frowned, looking equally displeased at the possibility. “We might have to go back soon,” Coper admitted reluctantly, confirming Midoku’s thoughts. “Our weapons are wearing down, we’re getting tired and–” he let out a frustrated huff.

They had killed what must have been nearly one-hundred Little Nepenthes and a Flowering Little Nepenthes stubbornly refused to spawn, let alone two.

(On the bright side, there hadn’t been any Little Nepenthes with a fruit either)

Both of them were running out of energy and soon they would have to return to Horunka, ovule or not. And while Midoku felt he could deal with that delay, Coper seemed very eager (desperate) ~~_hungry_~~ to advance. Midoku silently promised that if they only found one Flowering Little Nepenthes, he’d give the ovule to Coper.

“Hey,” Midoku said, dropping his voice to a whisper as he pointed. “Over there.”

Not too far away and past a few thinner tree there was a faint glow as fragmented polygons outlined in white light gathered together in a pulsing red shape.

Coper blinked. “Huh. Cool.”

Which greatly understated the abstract weirdness of watching something rendered so realistically sorta… manifest right in front of them. Like that weirdness that certain Quirks had, bending reality like clay in a way the mind instinctively rejected as impossible but still registered as happening.

Midoku and Coper watched the mob spawn into existence and soon there was another Little Nepenthes drooling and squirming like a cursed weed ripped up from Satan’s personal garden. The cursor on above it was a normal red (both Coper and Midoku were now level 3, so Little Nepenthes no longer registered as strong enemies) and more importantly, sprouting above the freakish mouth was a large flower.

“…”

It took a couple seconds for them both to register that yes, this freshly spawned Little Nepenthes after over a hundred of the bastards, had a goddamn flower.

“…!!”

Both he and Coper readied their swords but as Coper made to run forward, Midoku made a panicked noise and grabbed his arm, making them both stumble.

“What?” Coper hissed lowly.

“Look, another one” Midoku whispered urgently, pointing. Farther back, only visible because it entered the range of Search when he took a step forward, was another Little Nepenthes. A Little Nepenthes with a large orb hanging above its mouth. “Coper, it has a fruit.”

Coper stiffened.

The fruit of a Little Nepenthes was a very dangerous thing to deal with because the slightest bit of damage, or even jostling it too hard, could make the bulging skin burst open and release fumes that smelled like dead grass and manure. The gas wasn’t so bad in of itself, except that it attracted all nearby Little Nepenthes. The gas could spread decently far and Little Nepenthes could move surprisingly fast when motivated, so it was almost certain death unless over-leveled (which neither Midoku nor Coper were).

It was something Midoku had learned through trial and error, when his entire party got slaughtered in the beta. Something that was hard to figure out unless one made that mistake themselves.

~~Something that most people back in the Town of Beginnings would be ignorant to. At least until they made the same mistake.~~

“Okay,” Coper breathed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Okay. Here’s the plan. I distract the fruit one. You take down the flower one. Once we have the ovule, we bolt.”

A bit risky, but Midoku decided to follow Coper’s lead.

“Alright.” Midoku nodded, gripping the hilt of his sword tight. “Got it. Let’s do this.”

~~He was going to die in here.~~

The Flowering Little Nepenthes noticed Coper first, baring tombstone teeth and hissing like a tea kettle brought to boil. Coper ignored it and headed left, towards the one with the fruit, leaving Midoku to draw the aggro.

Which Midoku did with a passion, taking advantage of the Little Nepenthes’ distraction to drive his sword hilt-deep into its weak spot with the Sword Skill «Thrust».

It’s HP lowered by a satisfying half.

(Being an appropriate level made things so much easier)

The Little Nepenthes screeched, trying to pull away. Midoku stumbled after it, stubbornly holding on to the sword hilt sticking out of the mob’s flesh even while suffering the post-motion lag.

The aggro was certainly drawn.

With a yank and a grunt, Midoku ripped the sword from the Little Nepenthes and hopped backwards, neatly slicing off a vine before it could touch him. As the Little Nepenthes began to swell up, preparing a spray attack, Midoku activated another Sword Skill. Blade glowing with pale-green light, he took a step with his left foot and _lunged_ , «Horizontal Slash» cutting clean through the Little Nepenthes middle, making the pitcher topple off to the forest floor where it burst into glowing fractals.

All that was left behind was the usual—normal, trash-tier loot, only good for basic crafting and selling—and his prize. The Little Nepenthes Ovule, a fist-sized green bit of plant matter in the shape of a sphere.

The ovule also happened to manifest roughly where the flower had been moments before, so mid-air and a good bit higher than the top of Midoku’s head. It fell to the ground and bounced, and then thanks to its spherical shape, began to roll a small distance away.

“Coper, I killed it!” Midoku exclaimed with a mixture of elation and relief, glancing up at his ally busy distracting the other Little Nepenthes. “I’ll grab the ovule and then we can run.”

Coper turned to look back. Instinctive, a hardly half of second, but it was enough time for their eyes to meet. And for them to both pause, their gazes locked. In that brief instant where time seemed to freeze, Coper looked conflicted. Torn. ~~A fragile thread pulled taut, near breaking.~~ And then, his eyes hardened, resolute.

~~The thread snapped.~~

Coper’s turned back to the Little Nepenthes. “I’m sorry!” he snarled, and stabbed the Little Nepenthes. In the fruit.

And it burst like an overinflated balloon.

~o0o~

_Why did Coper do that? WHY DID COPER DO THAT?!_

Midoku’s head spun so hard he wanted to vomit, the fight or flight reflex of sudden immediate Danger—beyond simple scuffles, beyond fair fights, because a veritable _hoard_ of vicious monsters were about to converge upon them both—sending his body into overdrive as gas flooded the area. If before he was in shock, now he was past shock, now he was having a breakdown mixed with a mortality crisis, his heart near to bursting into bloody chunks in his chest.

 _Whywhywhywhywhywhy_ – his brain kept repeating like a skipping tape, unable to move past the sheer mixture of malice and stupidity Coper had just displayed. He had just signed both their death warrants, didn’t he understand? And yet there he was, standing, shaking slightly but otherwise calm.

Coper dodged another swing from the formerly fruited Little Nepenthes, the creature shrieking and flailing wildly and without purpose as the deflated fruit dripped brownish sludge. “I’m sorry,” he repeated flatly, like that explained anything.

“Coper…” Midoku could already hear the approaching Little Nepenthes, tree branches making the shattering noise of degraded items rather than broken wood as the approaching mobs crashed through them, dozens of red cursors rapidly closing in. Terrified and confused tears began to well up in his eyes. “Coper! What– WHY!”

It was useless to try and run.

Coper shrugged, swinging his sword idly as he extinguished his torch. He didn’t look Midoku in the eye. “I– This is survival of the fittest. It’s a competition and I’m just taking out a competitor. You understand. That’s why you’re out here alone, getting stronger instead of helping people out.”

~~That’s not why he–~~

(Was it?)

But that didn’t even make sense! MMOs were social games, they often _required teamwork_ to do almost anything important! That’s why Midoku didn’t play them much, because people were _scary_ and Midoku was _very dislikable_ and–

(He should never have left Tesla. And now he was going to die for his bad decision)

~~He would never see his mom again.~~

In MMOs, there was competition. There were fights. Some MMOs were even designed around pitting players against each other. But beyond the fact SAO was clearly designed to be cooperative, beyond the fact that with less than ten thousand players there would be plenty of resources to go around once they got past the first few floors, beyond the fact Midoku wasn’t _competition_ , Coper had just screwed himself just as badly as he screwed Midoku.

“Coper. Coper, listen. If we work together we can fix this. We can fight our way out,” Midoku near begged. “I don’t want you to die.”

~~_I don’t want anyone to die._ ~~

Because he didn’t. Because even if Coper had just tried to murder him, might actually succeed, Midoku didn’t want to other boy dead.

Heroes save everyone. And so far, the only crime Coper had committed was against Midoku himself.

Coper actually had the gall to smile. A small one, admittedly, dry and bitter and joyless, but a smile nonetheless. “I’m not going to die,” he explained as Little Nepenthes finally began to emerge from the trees. “The Hide Skill is vital for the solo build for a reason.”

Coper turned away, and leisurely walked into the brush and trees, his cursor soon disappearing from sight because not even Search could spot him.

Hide, a Skill that made it harder for mobs to detect players and made them lose track of players faster, as well as a good counter to the Search Skill. At lower levels it only worked on visibility, but if trained it could conceal sound, smell and even temperature. Important for solo players because they had to pick and choose their battles, had to be capable of fleeing when necessary since they lacked the back-up of a party.

And a very good Skill for setting up a monster-PK.

“Coper–” Midoku choked, realizing what the other boy was doing. The horde of Little Nepenthes would kill him, and after a bit Coper could return to pick up the Little Nepenthes Ovule Midoku hadn’t had a chance to put in his inventory.

Player-killing was penalized by the system—it turned one’s cursor orange, which meant being banned from safe zones—but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen, or that there weren’t ways to indirectly kill someone. There were rarely good reasons _to_ PK outside of roleplaying since it gave someone a certain reputation and players didn’t drop their inventory on death but–

Dead men tell no tales, and Flowering Little Nepenthes turned out to be so much rarer than they thought.

“Coper–” he repeated as a nearby Little Nepenthes screeched, but his eyes were locked on the spot where Coper had disappeared.

In the dark forest where visibility was low, against low-level and rather stupid mobs? Coper would normally be right in his assumption that he could escape, that he could just start running and survive the veritable horde that would soon be upon them. Except–

“Hide– Hide doesn’t work on blind enemies!”

Coper came flying back out from the brush and hit the ground hard, a Little Nepenthes snarling as it followed close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. So I intended for this to be the last chapter in the First Night arc but… nope, I guess. Probably one more chapter and this... episode? arc? section will be done.
> 
> Can I just say PK-ing is SAO is super interesting because the game seems designed to penalize it? Like, first there's the orange cursor system and then there's the fact you don't actually get much out of it. Like, in the LN you drop your equipment and stuff in your pouches (which is like stuff you don't have to open your inventory to grab) when you die which actually seems counterintuitive to the rest of SAO's anti-PK design (which is why I changed it because this is my show now) but otherwise PK-ing isn't actually supported by the game design. Which makes sense, the death game is about progression, not competition, and since death is permanent having players killing each other would make completing SAO nigh impossible. Also shows why bandits don't kill people, they usually extort them under the threat of death, and why Laughing Coffin and other red players are so fucked up because they have very little motivation to kill randomly and–
> 
> God, what am I even talking about. The end notes is not the place for meta.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed as always! What do you think of Coper? And how about how I'm portraying Izuku's relationships to people outside the game (namely his mother and Bakugou)?


End file.
